My Voyage
by Bells of Tomorrow
Summary: Thirteen year old Jonathan loves his life, but it's his former life that he's missing: His life as a pirate. He's about to get his wish, however, when trouble out at sea summons one man in particular: Captain Percival Ulysses Cox. Sequel to "My Captain."
1. Chapter I

_**A/N:**__ Hey, guys! Wow, it's been a while. Too long for my liking, to be honest, but life will do that to you. Anyway, I'm excited to finally be posting this sucker. I've been planning this sequel for quite some time now, believe it or not, so it's exciting to finally be able to start sharing this with you guys, albeit a little nerve racking. That being said, I hope you like the first chapter of the sequel to "My Captain." Enjoy!_

_**Side Note:**__ The site is no longer permitting me to use my usual "-" as scene breakers, so a scene change will now be represented with _**-MV-**_ for "My Voyage."_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter I:**

"_My, my, my it's a beautiful world. I like swimming in the sea. I like to go out beyond the white breakers, where a man can still be free (or a woman if you are one). I like swimming in the sea. …And still this emptiness persists. Perhaps this is as good as it gets."_

_-Beautiful World, by Colin Hay-_

If ever one were out at sea and found themselves sick (a common occurrence, unfortunately) pirate and sailor alike would surely seek the help of a reliable physician, if they weren't fortunate enough to have found one before leaving port. And if fate, the turn of the tides, or whatever deity said patient believed in, happened to take pity on their current state of vulnerability, they would surely guide their vessel to a small town in which a legend now resided; a legend that had not been seen or heard of in just a little over a year. Of course, if one were a mere listener of the tale, they probably would not recognize him; his coat and tricorn hat having been replaced with what most would consider a much more professional looking garb.

Now let's say that same twist of fate had been kind enough to get them the treatment that they so desperately needed. They, in turn, would undoubtedly feel better enough to walk around the town in which they now took residence.

If said patient were to venture away from the physician's place of work, follow the path before them, take a right at the market place, and follow the next path given down a series of humble looking abodes, then they would eventually come upon a house not too far from the building in which they'd just emerged.

They'd never get inside, of course. The physician was strict about keeping his door locked at all times, as was his protégé, who rumor had it had been kidnapped by pirates some time ago. Well, no wonder they wanted it locked! Such good citizens would _never_ run the risk of being kidnapped by _pirates,_ of all people…

Of course, if they had been allowed inside, they would have come across a comfortable little house that had more than enough space for two. And if they had passed the two bedrooms and the neatly kept kitchen that followed, they would have walked into a living room lined with books, a few well cushioned chairs, and a fire place in its center.

And here is where they would have met Jonathan Michael Dorian.

The thirteen year old brunet sat in front of the fireplace, ignoring the slight sting in the back of his eyes as he waited for his father to come home.

_Father._

Jonathan sighed. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he started referring to Capt – _Doctor _Percival as such, but he was wise enough to call him that only in the confines of his own head. He honestly didn't know how the older man would react if he ever chose to refer to him as his father out loud, but he didn't want to risk it. Maybe he would have attempted to by now if the former pirate didn't have a _real_ son, and while he in no way resented him for that, it was still a fact that made him uneasy in terms of calling Percival what he really wanted to call him.

John tried to stop himself from yawning, but was a second too late. His mouth widened, begging him for the sleep he so desperately needed.

Deciding to cave in just a little, the teenage boy abandoned the book he'd been reading to lie on his back; brown, tired eyes gazing up at the décor that hung delicately over the fireplace.

A painting that he and the older man had decided to keep for themselves rather than hang up in their waiting room stared down at him. It was amazing how Ben's artwork still managed to shine even in their dimly lit living room, and while looking at it still made his heart twinge, both he and his mentor were in agreement that it was better to have it up than not have it at all.

While his eyes still fought to stay open, John's gaze shifted to what hung right below the first mate's painting; their lean, carefully made design hanging horizontally in their individual places.

Right below Ben's painting hung Jonathan's old sword, and right below his, the Captain's. Percival kept them there for what he claimed was self defense; that they should be close by if ever they were robbed. It was a valid point, but he never mentioned wanting them there for the memory of the sea. So after quietly catching his father staring at them late at night – after witnessing his calloused fingers graze over the steel in quiet contemplation at least three times since settling down – John just couldn't help but wonder: Was self defense his only real reason for keeping them there?

Not that he was complaining. He too had a tendency to look at them with admiration. There were even a couple of times, when the older man wasn't home, where he'd take his sword off of its shelf and give it a few good swings, for old time's sake. It had surprised him the first time; the desire to feel the hilt of his sword wrapped securely in the palm of his hand. While he truly treasured the gift Percival had purchased for him all that time ago, it was still a weapon in which he had shed blood. It was still a weapon in which he hoped to never use again; at least not in a battle like the one he'd experienced with Ben…Yet, when he had given into his desire and held it for the first time after months of living in their new home, he had been filled with a sense of bittersweet nostalgia. Maybe it didn't help that he'd been wearing his tricorn hat (the same hat that currently hung on his bedpost, untouched for at least three months now) but he'd been hit all at once with an immense longing for his former life. The smell of the sea filled his nose, the crisp, ocean air caressed his skin, and when he licked his lips, he could have sworn he tasted salt from the spray of the goddess herself. Of course, he knew it was all in his head; knew that he had only just succumbed to another one of his fantasies, but it had surprised him all the same; this sudden longing for the same sea in which he'd almost drowned; the same sea, the same atmosphere, in which both he _and_ the Captain had been more than ready to leave behind.

Supposedly, anyway.

Upon further contemplation, it didn't surprise John too much that he missed his life as a pirate. It was where he first met the Captain. It was where he first met what he still considered his family – the crew of _the Sacred Heart_ – and it was where he first experienced so many different things that eventually led him to where he was now. It _was _a good thing, of course: where he was now. There was no question concerning both his gratitude and happiness when it came to living with Percival; the immense appreciation he felt for being able to work under his care alongside the crew he'd come to know and love. He put his desire for the sea under the category of his youth, figuring it'd go away over time. He labeled it as a connection to all those he cared for; all the new things he experienced with them. Because of those memories, it wasn't really too surprising that, every now and then, he craved that life once more.

But Doctor Percival?

He hadn't expected that at all, which may've explained why he never actually brought up catching the former pirate reflecting on his sword with a certain look in his eyes. John had hidden himself behind the wall that led to their living room, watching in silence. It had surprised him to find the older man there the first time as it was, but for a second and third? He thought that Percival, of all people, would be more than glad to finally rid himself of that life; the life he'd been sentenced to under a false accusation. An accusation that caused him to lose his wife, his son, and eventually, his best friend.

Yet the look in the older man's eyes had definitely matched his own.

Jonathan sighed, doing his best to ignore how his vision was becoming fuzzier; both the swords and the painting becoming harder and harder to see. Where was Doctor Percival? Where was _Captain_ Percival? Where was his father, and why wasn't he home?

**-MV-**

When Jonathan next woke up, he was surprised to find himself tucked inside his bed. He'd meant to stay up long enough to ask his mentor how work went. As his protégé, he would have normally gone with him, but he was in the process of getting over a cold, and the older man didn't want him to infect his patients or be thrown into a relapse himself. At first, he thought the auburn haired doctor was worrying over nothing, but considering he practically passed out on his living room floor just hours ago, he decided that, like always, he probably made the right decision.

Upon getting up out of his bed, Jonathan's eyes fell first to his bedroom window, realizing at once that he should still be sleeping. The sun was only just coming up, so the sky was still significantly dark. After taking in how early it was, he was quick to notice a small note placed near the edge of his bedside table.

_Jonathan,_

_There's medicine on the kitchen table. Please take it when you wake up. Yes, I know it's vile, but the good news is that this should be the last time you have to swallow it down; at least for this particular illness, anyway. _

_Percival_

_P.S. – You're getting too heavy to carry, kid. Try falling asleep in your bed next time. Captain's orders._

Jonathan smiled fondly at the last line of his note, though the very same thing that made him smile also made him worry. _"Captain's orders."_ When was the last time his mentor referred to himself as such? In the beginning, as a private joke between them, Jonathan would occasionally refer to him as his Captain, and Percival in turn would do the same; giving the young brunet orders the way he did in his note, but it'd been _months_ since he last did that. What caused him to suddenly fall back on their old joke now?

Turning back to the window, Jonathan stuck the note in his pocket, deciding to forgo the darkened sky and look for Percival instead. Retreating from his bedroom, he paused momentarily at the doorway, deciding to turn back around and fetch what he hadn't worn in months.

Tricorn hat in place, the young brunet ran to the kitchen, swallowed down his medicine, then ran out of the house, though where he was running to, he really didn't know.

**-MV-**

After checking their place of work, Jonathan was already at a loss as to where to look next. All of the places his mentor would usually go to were closed besides Sacred Heart and their house, so where on earth could he be?

Having abandoned his run into a steady walk, the brunet found himself straying over to the nearest dock. He hadn't planned on stopping – just wanted to be by the water for a second – but a familiar, neatly shaved head caught his attention. "Turk?" he asked quietly, not wanting to startle him.

His efforts went to waste as the surgeon jumped in surprise, turning around with widened eyes to stare at the person who called him. His posture relaxed instantly upon seeing his young friend, and Jonathan could have sworn his eyes flitted over his hat when a small, nostalgic smile crept across his face. "Hey, buddy," he finally said. "Sorry about that. You just startled me for a second."

"I should be the one apologizing then, right?" John answered with a smile. After a small moment of what the brunet interpreted to be awkward silence, he asked, "Do you mind if I sit with you for a little? I mean, I don't want to interrupt you if you're having a private moment."

"Of course you can join me, JD. You should know by now that you can talk to me whenever you want to; private moments included."

The former cabin boy smiled. Not just at what was said to him, but how he had been addressed. Turk was the only person from their crew who still called him by his nickname…

Walking towards the edge of the dock in silence, Jonathan sat himself down next to his friend, swinging his legs over the edge and dangling them above the water. Silence stretched before them until finally, Turk spoke.

"I miss her."

The young brunet nodded, his suspicion about his friend's early morning contemplation confirmed. "Has she replied to your last letter?"

"Yeah. She always does. And she always sounds happy to hear from me too, you know? But…I don't think she's ready to come here yet. I mean…I've been working hard; saving up to add on to my house; saving up to get her here. She doesn't know that, of course. I haven't told her. But just by the way she talks of her job, of that town… She's head waitress now, did I tell you?"

John nodded, remembering how Carla herself seemed excited at Laverne's offer from what felt like ages ago.

"That's the thing though, JD. I'm happy for her, and it sounds like she's happy for my accomplishments too, but I don't want to just keep on writing to her like this. I want us to be together. I want her _here._ But she loves that town. She loves that job and the people she works with, and I can't…I can't pull her away from that. It's her life, you know? Her life. It'd be…it'd be selfish to ask her to come. Besides, I…I don't even know how strong her feelings are…"

Without missing a beat, the young brunet answered. "Pretty strong."

Turk looked at him, surprised. "Really? But how do you know?"

"Because Carla's a really strong woman, at least that's the impression I got from her. I feel like, if she didn't have strong feelings for you, she wouldn't bother writing to you the way she's been. I don't think she'd have, um…have a lot of trouble finding someone, but at the same time, I don't think she's a girl who _needs_ to find someone either. I just don't see her as the kind of person who would humor someone, especially someone interested in her. If she didn't have similar feelings, I think she'd let you know."

Turk nodded, a small smile spreading over his expression. "She is strong, isn't she? Really independent too… Maybe that's why I'm so attracted to her. Strong woman are so rare to come by. I mean…have you been to the high end of this town? The women there are like walking dolls. These porcelain beings void of life; void of identity! I feel bad for them, which makes me feel worse, because really…who am I to say how they should live? But sometimes, I just can't help it – I want to go over there and tear off one of their corsets; I want to see one of them _breathe._ Though I have a feeling people would misinterpret that little maneuver, huh…"

JD chuckled softly with his companion, but after a moment, the conversation continued.

"Carla though, she's…she's not like that. She's not like that at all. I think that's why I love her so much."

It was John's turn to look at him; blue eyes wide with surprise. He'd never heard Turk say he loved her before. Mouth open to ask when this new revelation came about, he was cut off by the surgeon's following comment. "Sometimes, I'm tempted to take _the Sacred Heart_ and leave this place. Not forever, of course. Just long enough to see her; maybe try and convince her to come back with me, but despite what Doctor Percival thinks – sorry, buddy, but you know I still have a problem with him – I'm not a complete and utter idiot."

Suddenly, Jonathan was up on his feet. God, why didn't he think of that before!

"JD? Buddy?"

"Huh? Oh, right… No, Turk, you're not an idiot; not at all, and I get…I get wanting to see her again, I do…" Images of a blue eyed waitress he knew he couldn't have filled his thoughts for a bittersweet moment, but he shooed them away. "I have to go now though, okay? We'll talk more tomorrow, I promise."

As Jonathan ran off, he heard Turk shout behind him. "Where are you going?"

Without turning around, the young brunet waved another goodbye before answering. "To see our Captain!"

**-MV-**

The governor, upon first arriving at the Captain's old town, had asked the auburn haired doctor what he wanted done with _the Sacred Heart._ Instead of waiting for Percival's reply, he decided to continue on with a suggestion of his own: "We could tear it apart, you know; use the lumber for firewood."

The governor learned very early on not to say stupid things in front of Percival.

When asked why he wanted to hang on to a ship that would be of no use to anyone, the redeemed physician answered without pause. "Well, gentlemen, you never know when I'll be sentenced to a life of piracy under a false accusation. It'd be nice to have this waiting for me rather than having to steal yet another ship, don't you agree?"

The men had blushed before scurrying off into their separate directions, while the crew of _the Sacred Heart_ went about docking the ship in peace.

It'd been quite a while since Jonathan last came to visit what was once his home, but the time in which he'd last stopped by didn't succeed in dampening his admiration for the vessel he gazed upon now.

What killed him, however, was the sudden realization that a ship could look so _sad_. _The Sacred Heart_ stood motionless, her sails drawn down and tied. Her once strong structure seemed weakened somehow; broken. And when the occasional pull of the sea came to caress its underside, the ship would give out the tiniest of creaks as it pushed away, just a little, from the dock on which it was tied. But every time Jonathan watched, it would always get pulled back, its ties keeping her away from the sea that continued to call her name.

The more John stared, the more John watched, the more he couldn't help but wonder: Could ships cry?

What killed him even more, however, was the man who stood at its helm. No, not the man himself; the sight of Percival would never be able to do that to him, but the garb in which he now stood in made him tremble. All at once, his longing for the sea swelled into a desire that would make any boy less experienced fall to his knees and weep, but the brunet stood firm as he took in the sight of his mentor caressing the wheel he'd been deprived of for over a year now; both jacket and tricorn hat firmly in place.

He was tempted to run, for surely the older man would not take kindly to being spied on during such an intimate moment, but he was stopped from doing so, surprised that he was being questioned at all since the physician had yet to turn around.

"Did you take your medicine?"

He could've just said yes, he knew, but the words left him before he had time to stop himself; before he could even think of reconsidering. So natural was the response that flowed from his lips, even after all this time. "Aye, Captain."

Jonathan stiffened as Percival turned to look at him for the first time since his arrival, but the eyes that stared back at him weren't ones of annoyance. His eyebrows were furrowed, his blue-grey orbs contemplative, but whatever frustration was there wasn't aimed at him. After what felt to be several minutes of simply taking each other in, the older man spoke. "Redemption is good, but I'll tell you something there, kid, there's a sense of freedom that I'm lacking. I got used to it; that kind of liberation you get from being out at sea for so long. Now there were times where it sure as hell didn't feel liberating, I'll admit. Not when the whole reason for my being there was due to my damnation, but now that I've been cleared, I can't help but wonder: How would that life have been, that life of piracy, had the choice been a voluntary one? And I'm not talking about becoming the type of pirates we came across; the type of pirates like Robert and his stomach turning crew, but the kind of pirates we _were._ I guess it's a choice I never would have made in the long run, but it makes a man think…"

Jonathan stared at his idol, wide eyed. It'd been a long, long time since Percival talked like that; since he allowed himself to open up and be _human_, for once. It would have been a nice moment if his words hadn't left him feeling so sad.

Having turned his gaze to the dock beneath him, he was surprised to find the Captain staring at him upon looking back up. Or rather, no…not him. His hat. The tricorn hat he'd given him for his twelfth birthday.

"I'm guessing you're feeling about the same way over there, huh kid?"

JD shifted awkwardly, not quite knowing how to respond, but the Captain's reply to his own question answered that for him; his voice becoming closer as he made his way back onto the dock. "Guess we'll never know there, but that's life. The last thing we have time for is a pity party. Patients to see, illnesses to cure… And all be damned if I don't take pride in that, Newbie, because I can honestly say that I do. However, freedom doesn't come with that particular card, so we can either stand around and cry or take pride in the fact that we don't give a damn; that not having a hold of the sea doesn't hinder us from living a life that most would give their left arm to live. So c'mon, kid…let's go home."

**-MV-**

Jonathan shoved another fork full of eggs into his mouth, allowing himself to savor the moment. His taste buds had been horribly off during his cold, and his throat hadn't permitted him to swallow much more than soup and oatmeal for the last week, making something as simple as eggs taste like a delicacy.

Too consumed with his breakfast, he missed the small grin Percival was shooting him while sipping at his coffee. What he didn't miss, however, was the sudden knocking at their door.

Both heads turned to the house's entrance at once, then back to each other, eyebrows creased. No one ever bothered them this early. Okay, maybe the occasional patient, but that was an acceptation. A person in need was _always_ an acceptation, but even before Percival got up to answer the door, Jonathan knew that this was different…

Abandoning his first real meal in almost a week, the brunet stood up from the table, stopping at the entrance of their living room in order to peer in.

"Doctor Percival!"

Jonathan grimaced at the familiar voice that boomed throughout their house, it's overly-cheerful tone irritating even to him.

Ever since Governor Corman made his remark about chopping _the Sacred Heart_ into two, he'd been trying _way_ too hard to make everything A-Okay with Percival. Granted, he may have had a lot to redeem himself for, what with him _also_ being the man who damned Percival to a life of piracy…

"Governor Corman," Percival answered through gritted teeth. "Now what brings you to my house so early in the morning?"

The Governor had the decency to blush, realizing that he had only managed to add yet another act on his list of things to apologize for, but he cleared his throat and pressed on all the same. "We've encountered some trouble, Doctor, and it's looking as though you're the only one who can help us…"

JD watched as his mentor pinched the bridge of his nose. After a moment or two of silence, in which the former cabin boy knew he was counting backwards from ten, the older man straightened up promptly. Crossing his arms and flicking his nose, Percival nodded his head towards their living room, silently indicating for him to come in and take a seat.

"Much appreciated," he answered quietly, removing his hat as he crossed the threshold.

John, who was deciding on whether or not to stay for the conversation or make an escape to his bedroom, was quickly interrupted by that same, boisterous voice.

"Johnny Boy! How good it is to see you again!"

JD visibly winced at the nickname, while Percival held back a snicker. "Hello, Governor Corman…"

Trying not to bite the hand that was currently ruffling his hair – _that's my father's job, thank you very much _– Jonathan combed a hand through his locks once the man's back was turned to him. Silently looking towards his mentor, the older man nodded, letting him know that it was more than okay if he chose to stick around. Not wanting to be in the same room with the Governor, but curious as to why he was there, the brunet chose to stay.

After seating himself next to his father, the Governor across from them both, JD shifted awkwardly in his seat, waiting for one of them to say something. Percival, of course, was the first to break the silence.

"Governor Corman: You should know by now that I'm not one for beating around the bush, so how about you do me and my protégé here a favor by letting us in on why you interrupted us from breakfast. I seem to recall you mentioning something about a bit of trouble only I could handle. Which, of course, doesn't surprise me in the slightest, but I would suggest letting me in on what exactly this trouble entails. I can't fix what I don't know is broken now, can I?"

"No…no, of course you can't… The thing is…this isn't exactly in your line of work. Or rather…this isn't in your_ current_ line of work…"

The older man raised an eyebrow, though the rest of his body remained still. "And by that, you mean…?"

"Doctor Percival… There's trouble out at sea. Big trouble. We've been receiving numerous reports about a crew of pirates who have been robbing towns blind."

The auburn haired doctor almost laughed. "Pirates who steal things. Shocking. Terribly shocking. No wonder you're all a flutter."

Governor Corman rolled his eyes before pressing forward. "There's more, Doctor, rest assured. These pirates…they're not…they're not _normal._ According to the numerous letters we've received so far, they leave no trace of themselves; no destruction in their wake."

"No deaths?" Percival interrupted.

A nod. "None. There's never a sign of them coming either. They just…do. One minute, a town goes to sleep, mind at rest, and then the next minute, they wake up with nothing to their name. These pirates have been robbing these people _blind_, Doctor. So much so that they've already been called, 'The Ghost Ship.' There and gone in a blink of an eye. Unseen; undetected. It's…unsettling."

Jonathan turned his head to get a read on his mentor's expression. The tale was an interesting one at best, but concerning…?

"It sounds like they're an impressive bunch, I'll admit, but I don't get why this particular brand of pirate seems to be causing you and the rest of the world what appears to be an unnecessary amount of grief. Seems like, if you're going to get pillaged by cut throats, this is the crew to get pillaged by. Pirates who steal without killing? Who take what they want without death? Unnerving, maybe, to go to sleep and be robbed blind, but you must admit that pirates who give a damn about life are a rarity. I'm not saying we were the only ones out there who did, but we were a small group, Governor, that much is certain. If anything, I would consider these men the least dangerous of them all. Stolen jewels won't kill a man –"

"But stolen food will."

Percival's eyes narrowed instantly. "Come again?"

"They don't just steal the town's gold, Doctor. They steal _everything._ Jewels, food, medicine – _everything._ Having your town wiped clean of all necessary provisions would be hard enough by itself, but when you're also wiped clean of the money in which you'd be able to recover from such a tragedy, _then_ what do you do? You rot, Doctor, which is exactly what these people have been doing. This crew may not kill these towns directly, but the truth is that they might as well. These people; these targets…they've sent us letters for help; letters of warning, and it's time we take them seriously."

"And by 'we' you mean…"

Governor Corman shifted uneasily in his seat, the tips of his fingers fiddling nervously with the brim of his hat. "I know I have no right to ask this of you and your people, but Doctor…I don't know who else to turn to in this situation. I can't just sit by knowing these towns are withering away the way they are. And I've tried, Doctor, I've tried. I sent my people months ago, but the Navy comes back empty handed each and every time. No news, no evidence, no nothing. These pirates, as I stated earlier, are untraceable. You're the only person I can turn to, Doctor. The only one."

It was a moment before Percival next spoke, but when he did, his voice was low and steady; his tone unquestionably thoughtful. "My patients, Governor Corman…"

"I do not expect you to take all of your employees, at least not the ones who were never a part of your crew. I know you're the best doctor, I won't deny that, but I can no longer deny the possibility of this crew robbing _our_ town blind either, medicine included, and if that happens…if that happens, it won't matter if you're here or not; not when we have no medicine; not when we – _you_ – don't even have the ingredients to make more. They'll be gone, Doctor. If they come here, everything will be gone…"

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever, while Jonathan's heart pounded wildly beneath his chest. He knew what he wanted Percival to say. He knew how he wanted him to respond. Despite the obvious risks, despite the undeniable dangers, he knew what he wanted to do. Still, he dared not say it out loud. Not when so much was hanging on the balance. Not when it felt as though a single wrong breath could shatter everything that lay before them; the good_ and_ the bad.

So when a small, unwavering grin broke out onto the Captain's face – a grin that seemed to frighten the Governor but enlighten the boy who watched on – the used to be cabin boy just couldn't help but smile.

"Well, Jonathan," Percival started up suddenly, turning to look at him for the first time since they sat down. "It looks like you're going to be wearing that hat of yours a lot more often there. Captain's orders."

_**A/N:**__ Just in case anybody was wondering, this story isn't going to be science fiction. I know it could probably be interpreted that way since the ship is being referred to as 'The Ghost Ship,' but I promise this story will not involve a ship full of ghost pirates, or rather, a poorly done knock off of "Pirates of the Caribbean." lol On a slightly random note, the lyrics I chose for the beginning of this chapter are slightly out of order. The line, "And still this emptiness persists. Perhaps this is as good as it gets," actually comes later in the song, but it went so well with the beginning to all of this, so I squeezed it in there. ;) Anyway, I hope this first chapter managed to capture your interest some. Feel free to tell me if I've gone a little crazy, though. lol Until then!_


	2. Chapter II

_**A/N: **__I'm going to keep this short and simple so I don't start sounding like a broken record this early into the game, but thank you guys, sincerely, for the feedback you've given me so far. I appreciate it immensely, and can assure you that I'm not just saying that for funsies. So yes – I'll keep it at that and leave you guys alone to read. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter II:**

"_A year goes by and I can't talk about it. The times were right, and I couldn't talk about it."_

_-So I Thought, by Flyleaf- _

Despite what they'd been through together, it still amazed Jonathan how quickly they came; how ready they appeared to sail off at any given moment. They watched in a line, tall and proud, as their Captain stood before them once again; his sword strapped securely to his waist. "Gentlemen," he started up once the crew was officially gathered. "It's good to see the lot of you here this morning, it is."

It was said sincerely, though the fact that it was said at all seemed to startle the crew somewhat. A few eyes widened at the genuine gratitude behind the older man's words, while the others managed a small nod in response. Jonathan couldn't help but agree with him though: it _was _really nice to see all of them again. Not that he didn't on a daily basis, but gathered the way they so often used to made memories from a year ago feel as though they happened just yesterday.

Upon agreeing to help out the Governor, Percival had sent Jonathan to fetch the crew while he himself gathered what little provisions were left in their town suitable enough for a voyage like the one they were getting ready to make. (All of the better necessities had been given to the Navy some months ago. Lucky them…) John had run to their houses at once, knocking on their doors and telling them to meet the Captain at _the Sacred Heart_ in an hour's time.

No questions were asked. No complaints were made. Their loyalty to Captain Percival –to their _family – _was undeniable. It gave Jonathan goose bumps as he watched each and every one of them show up at the given hour, eyes alert and ready for action; their usual garb replaced by clothes very similar to the ones in which he first met them.

"However," the older man started up quickly, his tone back to its usual rough-around-the-edges-exterior, "This is no time for small talk. In case you scallywags haven't figured it out yet, we have a new mission on our hands."

Still in line with the others, Jonathan watched from the corner of his eye as Turk's arm shot up and into the air.

"Christopher. You have a question?"

"Yes, Captain. I'm all for going out to sea again, but, um…why exactly are we going?"

"Good question. So good, in fact, that we should forget for a moment that it's a question I was just getting ready to address, and instead reflect on how good of a question it really is."

Turk slowly pulled his arm down, but not before shooting the older man something akin to both a snarl and a pout.

_"Anyway,"_ the Captain continued, "Governor Corman has requested our assistance out at sea. And yes, I know by your confused, horrified looks that the very thought of helping that man sends you into something of a fit, and all be damned if I don't agree with you on that one, but it's the people left in the wake of those who we're going after that we have to focus on; not the Governor himself. And before any of you ask _who_, exactly, we're going after, allow me this opportunity to fill you ladies in: We're going after what has already been dubbed, 'The Ghost Ship.' Stop shaking, Nervous Guy, it's a metaphor. Anyway, the reason said crew has earned itself this oh-so-clever nickname is due to their ability to rob a town blind. One minute they're there and the next minute they're gone. They leave the town in which they've pillaged with nothing to their name. And by nothing, I really do mean _nothing._ This crew has yet to kill a soul, reportedly, anyway, but they leave the towns they hit in such a vulnerable state where it's more or less an indirect slaughter.

_"We_ have been summoned because, so far, the Navy has yet to track these people down. Hence the nickname, 'Ghost Ship.' They are, from what I've been told, 'untraceable.' If they're left to continue creating this legacy of theirs, then there is a high possibility that they will eventually hit our town as well. In case you haven't been following along, let me remind you seadogs just exactly what that'll leave us with: Nothing. No food, no supplies, no medicine… Our patients will suffer, as will we, so it's up to us to track these bastards down and haul them in for a trial."

"A _trial?_"

The heads of the crew turned simultaneously towards the newest voice in their party. Well, new in so far as its presence with the rest of them, anyway…

"Governor Corman," the Captain breathed in annoyance. "To what great displeasure do we owe your company?"

The crew snickered as Percival merely grinned, causing the man in question to turn ruby red. "Doct – _Captain_ Percival. It's all well in good to think that bringing them here for a trial will cause the world to be at peace again, but –"

_"Don't you dare."_

Jonathan shivered. It felt as though everyone within a ten mile radius just froze from the Captain's latest words; his demand having been hissed through gritted teeth.

"I-I'm sorry?" the Governor spluttered.

"Don't you _dare_ talk to me about how the world isn't easy to fix; don't you even _think_ of lecturing me on how to go about gaining whatever little peace is left. Unlike you, I wasn't brought into this world on a bear skinned rug surrounded by silks and sweet smelling perfumes. I worked for every damn thing I ever got, and do you know what happened then, Governor Corman? It was taken away. Everything. And do you want to know _why?_ Well, it has to do with a sorry, cynical excuse for a 'doctor' killing three different patients all to kick me out and get a raise. Could you do me a favor and remind me how, exactly, he got away with that? Who it was that believed him without hearing a single word from the man who was set up?

"Now I won't say I lost every_one_, no, because I had Benjamin with me. You remember Mr. Sullivan, Governor, don't you? The same man you requested a painting from. He turned you down, telling you that he didn't do portraits, but offered you a _multitude_ of other pieces that he was more than glad to paint for you. If memory serves, I believe you took to going around town and telling everyone within earshot how _untalented _he was; how pathetically _unreliable._ Well, Governor Corman, that 'untalented, unreliable excuse of an artist' turned out to be a _hell _of a lot more reliable than your so called men out there – your trained, well polished Navy – who have yet to come back with a single clue as to where this 'Ghost Ship' may reside. So when I do find them, and I can assure you that I will, I – _we_ – will bring them back here for a proper trial. Why? Because just a little over a year ago, it could've been _my _crew that you were after, and God knows we didn't deserve that treatment from the start, let alone being brought in by the same people who damned us there to begin with. So yes, Governor, I understand that said solution won't automatically cause the world to turn right again, but don't you even _dream_ of lecturing me on how to go about handling the tragedies in this world, because unlike you, _I've been there_.

"Now, Governor Corman, why exactly are you here?"

The Governor opened and closed his mouth several times before speaking, doing his best to form a coherent response when all eyes from the Captain's crew were staring at him; glaring. The one he knew only as Sacred Heart's cleaning man was practically boring a hole into his skull with those evil eyes of his. "I-I, um… I wanted to come and give my farewell to you and your men. My gratitude is really –"

"I don't give a rat's ass about you and your gratitude and neither do my men. The only thing we care about at all is saving these towns from withering away; from preventing _our_ town from suffering the same fate. Now leave. We'll be doing the same soon enough."

The crew of _the Sacred Heart_ watched as the petrified Governor slunk away and out of sight before turning their full attention back to the Captain.

"Well, that was fun," the older man grinned cockily, his arms crossing over his chest as he did so. "Anyway, as I was saying: Ghost Ship, withering towns, untraceable, etc. Is everybody clear on the purpose behind this new venture of ours?"

A series of "Ayes!" broke out among the men, making it more than obvious to Jonathan that it wasn't just he and Percival who had been feeling a little homesick.

"Glad to hear it, men, because it's time we set sail."

**-MV-**

JD sat on the ship's railing, one leg over the side while the other remained pressed against his chest. As much as he missed his time out at sea, he never thought ill of the town that he and the Captain had resided. In fact, his feelings about his last year there were immensely positive. Maybe that's why it just felt so strange; to crave the ocean one minute then miss his settled life the next, but it was hard not to feel a small pang of sorrow as he watched his home for the past year fade away.

"We'll be back soon, buddy, don't worry."

The brunet turned his head to the voice of his best friend, eyes curious. "How can you be sure?"

Turk merely shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not. But if we pull this thing off, which I really do think we will, then I'm personally all for coming back. In fact, I don't think a single man on here would put up a fight against returning. No one was unhappy there, you know? We just craved the sea again, that's all. It's…normal for us, I think; to want that again after the kind of life we lived. I feel like sailors and pirates share that one characteristic, if nothing else; that need to be out at sea again, even if you're happy with your current life. It doesn't mean forever, you know? But the feeling a person can get out here, I mean…look, JD, look!"

For the first time since watching their town fade away completely, John looked at their surroundings as a whole; _really_ looked. The sight took his breath away, and all at once, he remembered why it was he missed his life of piracy.

Everywhere he looked, the ocean spread out before him. Sky and sea, sky and sea. It was the perfect picture of freedom; of being allowed to go wherever it was you wanted to go. And as the cool, ocean wind tousled his hair, John's eyes fell on their Captain by the wheel, except this time, his hands were not grazing its wooden frame in longing, oh no. This time, those same, calloused hands were steering _the Sacred Heart_ with a vigor to be admired, and admired it John did. A grin had snuck its way onto the older man's expression; one that even rough, Captain Percival was having a bit of trouble hiding, and the brunet knew why.

_Liberation!_

John couldn't help but beam as he took in the sight before him, happy that Turk was able to pull him out of his conflicted state of mind and remind him why he missed the sea the way he did. "She was crying last night," he stated at random, a small, reflective smile now alighting his expression.

"Huh?"

"The ship. Just last night, I could have sworn she was crying, but look at her now! Her sails are spread out like wings and her boards don't sound nearly as creaky. She's happy again, Turk, isn't it great? She's really happy again!"

When Jonathan looked up at Christopher, he realized his arms were spread out the way he'd been describing the ship's sails, causing the older pirate to stare down at him with an amused grin. He knew he sounded like a kid; knew he was talking like he'd just emerged from another one of his fantasies, but he couldn't help it. He just felt so damn good, and even though he knew it sounded crazy, he couldn't help but feel as though _the Sacred Heart _did too.

**-MV-**

Percival couldn't help but grin as the sea stretched out before him, its blue-green surface shimmering under the surprisingly pleasant sun. Honestly, he never thought he'd miss it; not when his original reason for having first taken to the water was over a false accusation that lost him damn well near everything.

The realization that had eventually led him to his contemplation over what a voluntary life at sea would be like, however, was how much he gained from the experience as well. He lost his family, but he gained a crew. He lost his son, but he gained a protégé. He lost his job, but that, well…that he just got back.

Of course, there were some things he lost that he would never get back. Some_one_, anyway, and that someone was his first mate; a person whose absence he was already having trouble not dwelling on.

Still though, the people he gained were important to him. The crew of _the Sacred Heart_ was his new family – there was no denying that – and his protégé, Jonathan…

"She's really happy again!"

The boy's voice swam across the ship and into his ears, causing him to peer out of the corner of his eye. He watched as the thirteen year old spread his arms out, beaming, while Baldy looked down at him and smiled. As much as it pained him to admit, he really couldn't blame the older pirate for smiling. His own grin turned up a notch at the sight of John's buoyant expression. Oh yes, the boy was much more than his protégé. Jonathan Michael Dorian was his son, no matter what anybody said. Not that there were many who argued, per say, but hearing patients from back home and various townspeople refer to the kid as his protégé and nothing more began to grate on his nerves after a while. The truth was, the kid had been like a son to him far before their last little adventure came to an end. It'd been hard for him to admit, at first, since he had secretly wondered if thinking that way meant he was trying to replace the son he had lost. But overtime, it became increasingly apparent that John was no replacement. He meant what he'd said that day, when the boy confronted him on the matter. His son was his son, someone he'd always miss, but Jonathan was Jonathan. There was no one who could replace his child, the same way there was no one who could replace John. Simple as that.

Oh yes, it was realizing all that he had gained that finally led him into wondering what a life out at sea would be like without false accusations hanging over his head; without a past that constantly lingered at the back of his mind, torturing him. Not that he never found himself contemplating over the life he had before everything transpired, but it wasn't nearly as bad now; wasn't nearly as often. Despite those series of events having shaped who he was today, those same events no longer _ruled_ how he conducted himself. So the idea of being out at sea again – having an abundance of freedom without the guilt that originally came with it – became more and more appealing over time, despite him having been, dare he think it, _happy_ with his life as a physician; young Jonathan learning diligently by his side.

Percival, however, was no fool. Yes, the outstretched sea before him really was a sight to behold, but the auburn haired pirate knew that they didn't have much time to bask in their new found freedom. They were on a mission, and if what the Governor had told him was true, then something was definitely amiss on the waters in which he once sailed. He knew it was up to him and his crew to figure it out, especially if they wanted to prevent what happened to other towns from happening to theirs.

So, where to begin? Well, the obvious answer was to go about investigating the towns that had been hit so far. That much was a given. Still, it'd take about a week or so until they hit that first mark. What were they to do until then? For starters, they were definitely in need of some sparring practice. Percival himself had been practicing some months before the Governor even showed up at their home, something even Jonathan wasn't aware of. It wasn't a secret kept out of malice, but out of protection. He didn't want the young brunet to be living in constant paranoia; like any day now, a band of pirates was going to show up at their front door; set on slaughtering them all. Not that it wasn't important to be prepared, as he stressed to Jonathan about keeping their house locked and the like, but he didn't want to see the kid living every moment through a lens of suspicion. He didn't want him to look at everyone as a possible enemy.

He didn't want Jonathan ending up like him.

Percival rolled his shoulders, bringing himself back to the moment. Now was no time for reflection. Now was the time to work up a plan. His men were pretty strong, yes, but even the strongest became a little rusty after a year's worth of not practicing.

Captain Percival whistled sharply, grabbing both Christopher and Jonathan's attention. "Sorry to interrupt your tea party, girls, but do you mind if I borrow little Johnny over there? Ba-ba-ba! Don't even bother with an answer, Baldy, because no matter what you say, I'm stealing your friend for a while. Now come on over and take the wheel here. We have a bit of sparring to catch up on."

Christopher pouted as he marched away from Jonathan, though his face adapted a look of sweet nostalgia when he finally did take hold of the wheel. Percival walked over to his young protégé, a slight grin on his face, though he was surprised to see that the brunet was not wearing a similar expression. "You okay there, kid?"

Jonathan pouted. "'Johnny?'"

The older man rolled his eyes. "I'm just reestablishing who's in charge for the rest of the crew and you know it. Now c'mon. Time for practice."

**-MV-**

Jonathan walked behind his Captain in silence. A part of him felt a jolt of adrenaline at being summoned for a private lesson, just like old times. While he'd taken a few swings with his sword when his father wasn't home, it'd been ages since he had a real match, and going back to the same room in which he'd first learned how to sword fight, well…it was hard not to smile a little bit.

Still, he knew he'd enjoy it more if not for what just transpired up on deck. It wasn't really the nickname that bothered him, but his Captain's reasoning. Did he really still think that he had to –?

A sharp whistle broke through his thoughts, causing him to jump. "Okay, Jonathan, I know it's been a while, which is one of the reasons I called you down here. We're going to start off at a pretty slow pace, but if memory serves, you were a talented swordsman, so I don't expect to stay in this same rhythm for too long, you hear? Now come on; get into a fighter's stance."

Jonathan did so immediately, adapting the stance he'd been taught in from the start; the same style both his Captain and Benjamin had worked so hard in creating. Upon getting himself into the proper formation, he couldn't help but notice the way the older man was looking at him. It wasn't anger, but it certainly wasn't a pleasant look either. Was his footing off? When Jonathan asked him if that was the problem, the Captain merely shook his head. "No, Jonathan. Just concentrate, alright? On the count of three – 1, 2, _3!_"

And just like that, they were at it. Swords clinging and clanging away, reminding them yet again why it was they missed their previous life. Jonathan hated having to shed blood, but sparring with his fellow pirates always managed to send a rush of adrenaline through his body, especially when he got to spar with someone as talented as Percival.

Speaking of which… Jonathan could merely blink as the Captain was suddenly out of his line of vision. The man had ducked down without him noticing, using his sword to swipe at his legs in order to throw him off balance. The brunet waved his arms wildly in order to hold himself up, but came crashing down instead. "Ouch," he finally managed, resisting the urge to rub his butt. "Good one, Captain."

The older man grinned. "You better believe it." With typical, Percival transition, or rather, a complete lack thereof, the physician went from grinning to looking grimly serious in a blink of an eye. "But the truth is, you would have done a better job at avoiding that outcome a year ago. So c'mon, kid, back on your feet."

Eager to show his Captain that he was not only eager to regain his former strength, but ready too, the brunet hoisted himself off of the floor and into a quick and practiced flip, landing on the wooden planks beneath him with a little grin of his own. "Aye, aye, Captain!"

It was hard not to feel a swell of pride as he watched his father's eyes expand, if only for a moment, before his expression adapted a returning grin. "Well look who's been practicing on his own time. You think you can incorporate that into your fighting there, kid?"

The young boy nodded with genuine enthusiasm. "I'll try."

"You better."

And the match was on yet again.

**-MV-**

It was a good practice, that much was certain, but something was bothering Jonathan. If he had any more trouble telling when something was wrong with the kid after their time at sea together, than all was made up for after having lived under the same roof with him for as long as he did. Scarcely would he come out and ask, but he was always able to tell if Jonathan was upset. For the most part, the kid would eventually open up to him. But sometimes, the boy wouldn't say anything at all. He'd just take to his room and stare out the window, silently contemplating whatever it was that was troubling him.

It was those moments in which Percival would voluntarily ask what was wrong.

Something was definitely distracting him today though, no questions asked. For starters, he hadn't seemed nearly as excited upon first starting their match, something he had expected of him. Not to mention that during the actual sparring itself, he would catch the lad with his eyes glazed over, his mind clearly somewhere else, before having to knock him down or throw him off in order to bring him back into the game.

If he'd been paying attention to the kid at all over the last year, which he definitely had been, he knew whatever was troubling him would come up soon. So soon, in fact, that he was willing to count it down. Three, two, one –

"Hey, um, Captain?"

The older man hid a smile, though that wasn't particularly hard to do, knowing there was a potential serious conversation about to take place. "Yes, Jonathan, what is it?"

"Out on the upper deck earlier, when you called me Johnny –"

The Captain whirled around, making the younger of the two jump. It was surprise that caused his eyes to pop, not anger, but he didn't have time to explain that to him, not when _his _question was already rolling out of his mouth. "_That's _what's had you upset this whole time? That nickname? Oh for the love of – C'mon, kid, when do I ever call you Johnny? I'm just reaffirming myself as the Captain, that's all. You know that's how it goes around here. Our dynamic is going to be somewhat different than it was back home, you know that, but you also know that you and I – I mean… Oh, c'mon, kid, you know I care about you already. My point is that, when we're on this ship, I'm always going to have to establish myself as bullet proof. You know that."

At first, he thought the boy's blush was due to the embarrassment of having taken such offense to the nickname, but when he spoke next, he realized he was wrong. "I, um…I was actually going to say something else, but thank you for saying that, Captain; that you care. Not that…not that I didn't know that already, and I also know that things are always going to be a little different on _the Sacred Heart,_ but that's okay with me too. Even when you went back to being a physician, you were still, you know…my captain. So really, that part hasn't changed for me, in a way. I know things are going to be a little different on here than they were back home, but I'm okay with that, Captain, I honestly am. But, um…yeah. Thank you…"

Percival shifted uncomfortably, not having expected that as a response at all. Here he was, not quite knowing if he was up for a serious conversation, only to have made the situation worse. Doing his best to pull the two of them back on track, the older man cleared his throat and continued. "So what were you going to say there, anyway?"

He was surprised when it was Jonathan who now shifted awkwardly, and while the lower deck was always fairly darker than the main one, he could tell the kid's skin had just paled. What on earth?

"I, um…the nickname surprised me, admittedly, but I've just been thinking a lot about…a lot about what you said after that; about having to reestablish yourself as bulletproof. About…about having to remind everyone who the Captain is. I don't think you actually have to do that anymore. I just…did you see how quickly they came this morning? How loyally they've been working under your charge for the past year? I don't…I wasn't there when you first met this crew; when they first became a part of _the Sacred Heart._ Maybe back then, you really did have to establish yourself, but I don't think you have to worry about that anymore. I mean…they're your family now, right? I don't think they're going anywhere…Captain."

Percival was glad that the brunet had his head to the ground, his shoes apparently a very interesting sight, because the more Jonathan spoke, the more his eyes had widened. No wonder the kid had looked so shaken before speaking. No wonder his skin had paled

For the first time since meeting him, Jonathan had expressed an opposing opinion. Not out of frantic desperation, like the day he had insisted on joining them in their fight against Robert, and not out of a deep desire to help, like the day he had pulled him out of his drunken plight, but this was caused by something _he _thought was right.

Without prompt, without guidance, Jonathan had just essentially told the Captain he was wrong.

He could have reacted in a number of different ways, he really could have, but for one reason or another, the older man could only grin. _Now if that's not a man in the making…_

Still though, his grin faded into a look of bitter realization when he realized why his protégé's words sounded so familiar; why they managed to strike a real chord. It wasn't just that the boy disagreed with him, oh no, it was that he had heard those words before…

Having starred off into space – a new trait he could not help but blame the former cabin boy for – he was surprised to turn back to find the brunet staring up at him, though he was sure to keep his look of indifference. They stayed like that for a few moments; the two of them just standing there, reflecting. It was Jonathan who first broke the silence.

"Captain? I-I'm sorry. I meant that in no disrespect, honestly, it just –"

"Do you know why I called you down here today, John? Why I wanted to spar with you first before gathering the rest of the crew?"

Jonathan's expression adapted a look of genuine curiosity. Had it crossed the kid's mind at all? No, it wouldn't have. He wouldn't get it until he came out and told him what it was he had already decided prior to their session.

"I'm not going to continue teaching the style Benjamin and I came up with."

The brunet's eyes immediately widened. Well, he definitely wasn't expecting that one. "Captain?"

"You heard me. It was a style that Ben and I were going to teach, and as you can see, Ben is no longer here. However…I still want you to use this style, do you hear me, Jonathan? Ben and I…we couldn't help but notice how well it fit your build; the speed our particular form of fighting required. We were both in agreement, you know, about how well you took to it; how sometimes, it felt as though it'd been made for you. Now how that holds any truth at all is beyond me, considering we started months before we found you out there, holding onto that board for dear life, but what I'm trying to say to you here is this: It's yours. That style…I'm not going to continue with it, but _you _are. I want you to practice that form as much as you can. I want you to perfect it. I'll help _you_ get better, but that's it. Just you. I'm not going to go up there and start teaching a style that originally required two teachers, but I think Ben would agree with me when it comes to teaching you. So it's yours Jonathan. It's yours."

Percival watched at the boy's jaw fell open, his blue eyes growing even wider. After several moments of merely gaping at him, the brunet finally swallowed. "T-Thank you, Captain. And if…if Ben was here, I'd…"

"I know you would, kid, trust me. I know you would…"

Turning to make for the stairs, Percival stopped mid step, almost causing Jonathan to stumble backwards. Closing his eyes in quiet preparation for what he was getting ready to say next, the older man turned around sharply, though his posture didn't quite match his eyes. "Listen to me, Jonathan, and listen to me well. What I'm about to tell you is something I should've told Ben years ago. He said it to me over and over again, and I never got to tell him that…" The auburn haired Captain stopped. Swallowed. God, this hurt. Not so much the admission, but that it was too damn late. If he could never swallow his pride long enough to tell Ben, than he could at least do what he'd always asked of him and allow somebody else in, even if he'd technically already accomplished that. Still, this was a new step entirely; a step that he did not like permitting for anyone. But Benjamin – _and_ Jonathan – were never just "anyone." If he was going to swallow his pride long enough for somebody, it would have to be them.

"C-Captain…?"

"You're right."

The older man watched as his protégé adapted a look of confusion, and then, just like that, realization. He didn't think the poor kid's eyes would have enough energy to grow anymore than they already had, but apparently, they still had it in them.

"You're right, kid, you are, but I'm not one for sugar coating anything, so here it is: Don't expect any changes. Or at least, don't expect any _sudden_ changes. You're right about them; those peons up there. What they mean to…what they mean to us, but old habits die hard, and you're asking me to let go of what I've grown to think is the key to survival. I can't promise you anything there, Jonathan, but the least I can do is tell you that you're right. Truth be told, Ben told me the same thing more times than I care to remember, and I… Let's just say that I didn't get to tell him that on time, now, did I? So I'm telling you: You're right. But how about, for both of our sakes, we leave it at that and move on."

Percival was more than glad to receive a nod of understanding, though he wondered if he should have cooled down a bit on the Ben talk, now that the kid's eyes were filled with a remorse that felt all too familiar.

Doing what he had not done for months, including their time together back home, the older man reached forward, ruffling the young brunet's hair. "You're fine, Jonathan. You're fine."

**-MV-**

Jonathan lay on his hammock, exhausted. Today had been an amazing, albeit emotional, first day back at sea. After his practice and unexpected conversation with the Captain, they'd gone back up to the main deck to spar with the rest of the crew. No questions were asked about why only he seemed to be continuing with the style in which both Percival and Benjamin had created, though he did get a few odd looks. Most were wise enough not to press on the matter. Either that or they just figured it out for themselves.

After sparring was over and the usual chores were given out, the rest of the day continued on just as it did the last time they were all out at sea. Dinner was admittedly an adjustment, since a pirate's food (or any sailor's, actually) was never going to match the food served on land. Still, Jonathan wasn't about to complain. He was just happy to be out at sea again, eating with them all the way they did when they first met.

With his muscles sore and his stomach full, the brunet couldn't help but feel tired as he lay inside his hammock. Well, not really _his_ hammock. The crew had been too exhausted to go searching for whose hammock was whose, so they had quietly decided to just collapse into the first one they reached.

Yet, for as tired as he was, Jonathan just couldn't fall asleep. The day had left his mind buzzing with a whirlwind of various thoughts, making it harder for him to nod off.

Eyes only half open, the young brunet went about lazily poking at the wooden planks beside him with the end of his sword. He was about to fall asleep, the rhythm he was creating somehow soothing, when one of the planks suddenly caved in, making him startle.

Jonathan stared, now very much awake, at the hidden little space he just accidentally found. His mind jumped to a million and one possible conclusions as to what could lie inside. A treasure map? A secret passageway? A hidden room? A hidden _world?_

Shaking his head in order to rid himself of such crazy thoughts, Jonathan breathed in deeply and reached inside, his muscles tense with excitement at the various possibilities of what he might find.

At first, he thought it was empty, his hand having met nothing but dusty old wood. He was about to give up; to pull the loose plank back over the gap and call it a night, but then his fingers grazed over the soft feel of leather, startling him back into the moment. Cautiously, carefully, he pulled the mysterious item out of its compartment and into his trembling hands.

It was a book, that much was certain. Its binding was hand crafted, strong, and its leather bound cover was worn. Shaking from the mere excitement of the find, Jonathan opened its pages, eager to read what was inside. Only then, unfortunately, did it occur to him how utterly dark it was. Squinting, it became apparent that there were words on the pages, though if he was really seeing right, there were dates above those pages as well. So perhaps it wasn't a book, but a journal? After all, who would take the time to hide a book? A journal, on the other hand…

Suddenly, Jonathan was nervous. The realization that it might be a journal – someone's private, intimate thoughts – made his palms sweaty. He shouldn't be reading it, or at least trying to, anyway. He shouldn't even be holding it!

Too tired to deal with the confliction, Jonathan quickly stashed it in the compartment, reaching over and pulling the plank in front of it after doing so. No, he shouldn't read it. It just wasn't right.

Then again, he still wasn't _positive _that it was a journal now, was he? If the dark had been playing tricks with him and it really was a book, there was nothing wrong with reading it, right?

Shaking his head and closing his eyes, Jonathan turned over on his hammock, making sure he was completely turned away from the item in question. He'd deal with it tomorrow. Today had been a good day, and he was going to make sure those were his last thoughts before drifting off into a much needed sleep.

_**A/N: **__I really wanted to show that Jonathan is growing up some (which will be emphasized in other ways throughout the story) so I had him tell Percival that he was wrong in his way of thinking. Jonathan is still going to be that loving kid from the prequel, no doubt, and since we know JD is still a kid at heart in the real world of Scrubs, it's not particularly hard to imagine him that way. He is, however, a little less innocent since last we left him; a little bit bolder too. But like I said, that'll all be touched upon later. Without, hopefully, ruining the character he was in "My Captain." Anyway, that's that. Nothing more to say here other then that I hope you guys enjoyed chapter two. Until next time!_


	3. Chapter III

_**A/N: **__Hey, gang. First of all, thank you so much for the feedback you've given me so far. It means a lot to me, it really does, and I'm thrilled to know you guys are enjoying the sequel so far. (Let's just hope I can keep it up. lol) Anyway, I know it's not Friday yet, but I'm going to be out of town all day tomorrow and won't be back till Saturday, so I figured I'd get this up here now. Better to post it earlier than planned instead of later than planned, right? (Or I could just be a little anal…) Anyway, that's about it from me. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter III:**

"_Now the boys are all grown up and they're working their fingers to the bone. They go around chasing them girls on the weekend. You know they still can't be alone."_

_-A Great Big Sled, by the Killers-_

If there was one thing Percival didn't miss about the sea or _the Sacred Heart_, it was that obnoxious morning bell.

"BREAKFAST, BREAKFAST! Hurry up or you'll miss my Mango Morning Melon Meal!"

The older man grimaced. Coming from anybody else, that may have sounded appealing, but from Todd? 'Melon' meant more than just fruit to the guy, that much was certain. He'd have to get up quickly just to make sure Jonathan didn't fall for that trick. The kid was too young for that kind of corruption.

Of course, that thought just led to a series of other thoughts, like the fact that Jonathan probably wouldn't consider that much of an "ew" factor anymore. And okay, maybe he wasn't indecent like the Todd, but he was, in fact, a growing boy; a growing boy whose feelings over things such as "melons" were going to be developing as well. Hell, the kid had already gone through the first few steps of puberty, what with his voice having changed and all. Granted, he was still dealing with the occasional growing spurts and the pains that went along with them, but that stuff he was good at assisting with. He knew what muscles needed stretching to ease the pain, knew when the kid just needed some extra food for his growing limbs. It was the sexual stuff that made him uncomfortable, even if some of the events that had transpired in their own home were slightly entertaining.

Percival would never forget the morning in which Jonathan woke up in a rush, legs darting to the bathroom like his room had been on fire. Figuring that the kid just needed to relieve himself, he let it go, but when he didn't come back for another fifteen minutes, the older man had begun to wonder. When John finally _did _come back, it was impossible not to notice how scarlet he'd turned; how completely and utterly awkward he appeared. Later, when he caught the boy washing his sheets, that same look of confused, horrified embarrassment on his expression, the older man knew what had transpired over night. Not being able to help himself, he stepped outside and into their yard, where the brunet was still scrubbing frantically.

"Have a good dream there last night, Jonathan?"

The boy's blush was unmistakable, and Percival had to use every bit of his self control to keep himself from laughing.

He wasn't laughing at all, however, when he got up a few nights later, having heard noise emitting from the lad's bedroom. He'd gone to check if he was okay, thinking he was in the middle of a nightmare, but instead, he was greeted with the sound of John moaning, "Elliot," in his sleep.

Not so funny anymore.

When Jonathan first developed his little crush on Miss Blondie, it'd been almost…cute. No, he didn't think she deserved him, but he was smart enough to know that, that was just his parental instinct talking. What made it okay, what made it "cute" even, was that she was older than him to the point where everyone involved knew it wouldn't happen. Besides, Jonathan was young. Eventually, he'd start crushing on somebody else. No harm done.

But that had been months after settling down in their new home, and it still looked as though he was carrying a torch for that princess.

The following morning, when he'd woken up looking just as embarrassed as the first time around, Percival had swallowed his own awkwardness long enough to explain to him what those dreams were; that it wasn't supposed to be embarrassing.

He never mentioned hearing Elliot though.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, the older man couldn't help but think back on a time where little, defenseless Jonathan was curled up in his bed on _the Sacred Heart_; girls the very least of the boy's problems. Not that he wished _real_ problems on the kid, but damn it all if he didn't wish he could somehow prevent this whole puberty thing; at least the bits that weren't amusing, anyway.

Or, at the very least, he wished the kid would start crushing on someone else. No, it really didn't have to do with the tension between him and Blondie anymore. It was just the fact that, no matter what, he was still undeniably a _kid._ Everyone knew he was too young for her, and while it seemed like Jonathan knew it too, it was clear he still thought very highly of Elliot. In fact, he wouldn't be particularly surprised if the brunet himself didn't realize just how much he liked her. He almost wished he was like most boys his age in that his crushes came and went with the tides, but he knew a part of what made Jonathan so genuine was the fact that his love for somebody – _anybody _– always came from a place of sincerity. And yeah, maybe it was just that annoying, parental part of him again, but he ra-ha-ha-_heely_ didn't want to see the boy end up hurt. Sooner or later, they were going to venture back to everyone's favorite town, and if what Carla had told Baldy in those letters was true, then Jonathan would eventually see that –

"BREAKFAAAAST!"

God, he wasn't sure what was more obnoxious; the bell or the moron who rang it.

Putting his previous thoughts to the side, Percival stood from his bed and headed for the galley, but not before grabbing his hat.

**-MV-**

Jonathan was quick to stash his plate with just about everything being presented to them that morning. He'd woken up with his legs killing him again, a sure sign that he was in the middle of another growth spurt.

"You okay, buddy?" Turk asked as he took a seat.

"Yeah, just a little sore. You know, these growing pains would be a lot easier to deal with if I ended up looking my age for once, but people still think I'm younger than I am. When I was eleven, they thought I was nine. Now I'm thirteen and they think I'm eleven."

Turk chuckled softly. "You'll get there, JD. And hey, even if you always look a little younger than you are, that won't be such a bad thing when you get even older, you know?"

The brunet merely shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

The two went about shoving spoon fills of oatmeal into their mouths before Christopher broke the silence. "Oh hey, did I tell you? I sent a letter to Carla before leaving."

"Really?" John asked excitedly.

"Yeah. It was a quick one, of course, since we only had an hour before having to be at the ship, but I figured I'd let her know I was coming out to sea again. I mean, I don't know when we'll go there exactly, but I'm guessing we'll stop by that port sooner or later. It's everyone's favorite, even the Captain's."

Jonathan nodded eagerly, remembering his first time there with bittersweet nostalgia. "Hey!" he spoke up suddenly. "Did Carla mention anything about Elliot? I mean, how is she doing? Did she say?"

He was surprised when his best friend's response was to shift awkwardly, poking at his oatmeal like he didn't know it was there for eating. "She's, uh…she's good."

"Okay… Hey, um, Turk? You know if something was wrong, you could tell me, right? It's just…I'd rather know if something bad happened to her than be left in the dark…"

"Huh? Oh no, JD, no! She's fine. Honestly."

"Oh. Um…okay. I was just asking because you seemed a little –"

A sharp whistle broke through their early morning conversation, causing the entire galley to jump. All heads immediately turned to the figure standing tall at the front, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at the lot of them, expression serious. "Alright ladies, listen up: Our best course of action when seeking out this 'Ghost Ship' is to investigate the towns that have been pillaged so far. Governor Corman gave me a list of those who have been hit, so we're going to set aim for the closest one on that list to start us off in the right direction. If my skills in navigation are as sharp as they once were, which I can assure you they are, we should be there in about a week's time. Once we _are_ there, I expect you to conduct yourselves as men, not as ratty seadogs. Keep in mind that these people have just been robbed by who they're going to associate as 'our kind.' I have a letter with Corman's seal of approval, despite how much that disgusts me, letting them know that we are not, in fact, there to do the same. However, it is vital to remember that these people are going to be uneasy by our presence, so treat them as you would one of your own, understand? I want you to ask them questions while I'm talking to whoever will let me do the same; what they heard, what they saw – hell, you can ask them what they smelled, for all I care, just so long as you're able to gather some useful information without making them want to run. There's a difference between interrogating and asking questions, and I'm asking you peons to do the latter. Are we understood?"

"Aye!"

"Glad to hear it. Now the lot of you hurry up and finish. There are chores to be done."

**-MV-**

Up on the main deck, Jonathan went about patching up the sails that were in need of mending. It wasn't usually a difficult assignment, but after so many of their already tattered sails had been stored away, it was becoming very apparent that a few of them had served as meals for guests on _the Sacred Heart_ over the past year or so; said guests being rats, from the looks of it.

Gaze having been focused on the hole he was currently stitching, John didn't notice the shadow looming over him, nor did he notice its owner reaching down to grab a part of the tattered sail in order to throw it over his head.

"Ah!"

The brunet grit his teeth in irritation as he kicked his way out of the tattered material, while the shadow's presence remained put. Finally, Jonathan squirmed free, throwing the sail off of him in order to glare up at the man that grinned down. "What was that for!"

Shilling Guy's grin only widened at his increasing frustration, causing the thirteen year old to frown even more. "What _wasn't_ it for?" he finally answered.

"What? That doesn't even make sense?"

"What _does _make sense?"

"Is this a new game?"

"What _isn't_ a game?"

"I'm going to take that as a yes… You know, I seem to recall a time where you claimed this kind of thing was a test of my character. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't I pass?"

"Ah, but did you? Did you _really_?"

The brunet couldn't help but feel taken aback by the question. Was it said to torture him with curiosity, or did the taller man have a real point to his habit of teasing him?

Lost in thought, John didn't realize that Shilling Guy had bent down, grabbing the sail and throwing it over the boy's head for the second time in less than a minute. "Nah, you passed," he commented dryly, watching the youngest of them fight his way out from underneath the material. "This kind of thing's just fun for me."

"How very honest of you," Jonathan grunted, throwing the sail off of him and tucking it beneath his arm. Usually, he was good at ignoring the older man, but everything seemed to be bothering him today, making him more irritable than usual. Not wanting to take his frustration out on the rest of the crew, the brunet marched down to the lower deck. He'd finish his patching amongst the empty hammocks, out of Shilling Guy's sight.

**-MV-**

It wasn't until Jonathan reached their sleeping quarters did he realize his own stupid mistake. The room in which he was supposed to find rest was now a room of temptation, distracting him from his work even more than Shilling Guy would have.

The journal. He'd completely forgotten about the journal.

Shifting awkwardly on the wooden planks, the brunet did his best to focus in on his stitching. It wasn't until he pricked himself with the needle, due to his gaze having wandered over to where he knew the book resided, did he finally walk over to the compartment in question.

The boy stopped upon reaching his hammock – or whoever's hammock he slept in last night – re-thinking what he was about to do. Was it right to reach in and see? He'd be able to read it now that it wasn't pitch black, but what if it really was a journal instead of a book? He'd be invading someone's privacy; something Jonathan _knew_ he wouldn't want done to him. Yet, as the minutes ticked by, his logic from the previous night came back to him. How was he to know it was a journal if he didn't take a look at it first? All he'd have to do was glance at the first page in order to tell what it was, and if it ended up being a journal, he'd close it up and put it back. No harm done.

Hands shaking only slightly, Jonathan stretched across the hammock to reach out for the loose plank. He hadn't noticed it last night, but it wasn't until he was removing the sought after item did he realize that no one would be able to notice or even reach the compartment unless they were at his exact height and angle, or rather, in the hammock itself.

The leather bound book now grasped firmly in his hands, Jonathan took in a shaky breath before opening it, not quite sure what he wanted to find.

Immediately, the answer to his pondering was revealed. It wasn't the first sentence that gave it away, but the date that stared up at him instead.

_March 20__th__, 1709_

Jonathan's blue eyes widened. 1709? Whoever this belonged to started writing it three years prior to his birth. Curious to read what life was like before he entered the world, the brunet went to read on, but – no. It was a journal. Mystery solved. Time to put it back now, just like he told himself he would.

…But 1709 was such a long time ago. For all he knew, the journal could have been abandoned some months after it'd been started. After all, he only looked at the first entry, not the last. He didn't know when it came to a close. If it was only kept for a year or so, than he doubted whoever kept it really cared, considering they were most likely no longer a crewmember of _the Sacred Heart_. There was no harm in reading just the first entry then, right?

_March 20__th__, 1709_

_ It feels good to be writing again. I used to when I was younger, even if I didn't have much to say. To be perfectly honest, writing's never been my strong point,_ _but I enjoy keeping track of my thoughts like this. I enjoy reflecting. Some find taking a look at yourself a disturbing process. I can understand that, because sometimes, you might find something you didn't know about yourself; something that you might not know how to go about fixing. Then again, it may not need fixing at all. It may just be a trait that the person doesn't find attractive in themselves. See, now I'm rambling. This is why I'm not good at writing, I'm afraid, but it's my journal, so I suppose I'm allowed to do that. _

Jonathan stared at the words in front of him, fascinated. He wasn't sure what qualified as good writing, as he himself had never really given it a go, but he couldn't help but feel drawn in by the person's words. Perhaps it was the mystery of it all that really grabbed his attention, but even so… Eyes still glued to the eloquently written script, the brunet pressed on.

_I'm not particularly sure why I decided to start a journal again, actually. I suppose it's a little strange to pick up at random, but perhaps that's just it then; my reason for doing it. Maybe it really is just the oddity that seems to be my legacy, of sorts, that has me wanting to start this again. If you think that bothers me, by the way, it doesn't. The oddity portion, I mean. If you find the world a boring place, then liven it up so that it isn't. I guess that's not very sound advice, now that I've written it down, since some would take that as a means to cause chaos. That's not what I meant though. See, to me, life is about, well, living. (Do you see now why I don't consider myself a writer? What a scholar, I am). But see, living isn't just about fulfilling your own desires. Good living, at least to me, involves spreading that liveliness to those important in your life. Speaking of which, it's about time I take my own advice and go see how she's doing. I'd like to think my visiting would help calm her some, but if I know her at all, she won't even admit to being nervous. _

Jonathan stared at the last sentence, his curiosity rising. "She?" Perhaps the writer was referring to this wife? But if that was the case, then why would he be visiting her? Wouldn't they be living together? Unless…maybe, if she had some reason to be nervous, the woman in question was getting ready for a journey in which the writer was going to see her off. If that was the case, then the woman could easily be his wife. That made sense, didn't it?

Excited to find out the answer to his query, Jonathan went to turn the page, only to be jolted out of his reading by the ship's intrusive bell.

"UP ON THE MAIN DECK FOR S-S-SPARRING PRACTICE!"

The brunet sighed. Partly out of disappointment from being torn away from the journal, and partly in concern for Douglas. Would he ever get over that stutter of his?

Stashing the book in its compartment, Jonathan jumped down from the hammock and grabbed the sails, realizing at once that he'd have to do some extra stitching later in order to make up for the time he had lost. He knew he'd be able to get it done. Not because he was particularly good at what he did, but because he knew he'd be getting little to no sleep tonight; the guilt of having read somebody else's journal already growing in the pit of his stomach.

**-MV-**

He never wanted to be a physician based off of some life changing experience. Almost everyone in his field, at one point or another, had shared with him some elaborate explanation – some life altering occurrence – that had created their passion. Percival, on the other hand, had landed himself in a town in which both physicians and medicine were scarce. It was the job that needed to be filled, and he was the person that everyone needed to fill it.

That's not to say he didn't take pride in what he did; that he didn't enjoy helping others. But the biggest enjoyment for him came out of constantly being needed.

Captain Percival sat at his desk, succumbing to insomnia. He tried not to dwell on his desire to be needed often, not wanting to go back and contemplate on where it originally came from, but it was hard not to think about that trait of his at a time like the one presented to them now. After all, the whole reason he was out at sea again was because of the Governor's need. Not that he took _any_ joy in helping that rat bastard out, but when he imagined those towns left with nothing, well…it was _their_ need that confirmed his decision, not to mention the idea that their own town could end up the same way…

Deciding he would try to get some air, the older man removed himself from his cabin, standing up and heading for the main deck.

Having only expected to come across whoever was in charge of steering, the Captain was surprised to find Jonathan outside as well. He was even more surprised to find the brunet sewing, especially given the hour. "Jonathan?"

It amazed him how jumpy the kid could be, even after all this time. He managed to raise a curious eyebrow rather than grin, watching the boy spin around in shock as he stumbled over the sails in the process. "Captain!" he shouted in surprise.

The older man raised a calloused finger to his lips as he walked over to where the used-to-be-cabin-boy stood. "Quiet there, John. Crew's sleeping. I'm rather curious as to why you're not doing the same there, actually. Care to explain?"

Jonathan turned to the sails, a mournful expression on his face. "I didn't do a proper job of patching the sails before, Captain. I was…easily distracted by something that shouldn't have distracted me in the first place. I came out here to finish the job."

Percival's eyebrows came together in confusion as he watched the boy look downwards, head hanging low. Why did he look as though he committed the ultimate crime? Yes, he should have finished with the sails when instructed, and yes, it was a little odd to hear that Jonathan, of all people, had gotten himself distracted. Besides the random daydreams, the lad was never one to neglect his responsibilities. Still, it wasn't the end of the world, and yet the brunet looked so utterly guilt stricken. "Relax, Jonathan, it's fine. Well, let me elaborate a little on that one. It's not fine that you neglected your responsibilities, but the world isn't going to implode on you either. You made a mistake; one that I can't recall you ever making before, so relax a little. There's no need to deprive yourself of sleep over it."

The blue eyed pirate nodded, a deep concern still residing in his gaze. Something else was troubling him, and as much as the older man wanted to ask what that was, something in his gut told him not to. The instinct – the warning – was strong, and Percival felt oddly inclined to obey it.

For now, anyway.

"Thank you, Captain," Jonathan finally answered, tone still thick with guilt. "I managed to stitch up the last one before you came out, so I'll just gather them up and…and get some sleep, I suppose."

"You suppose?"

The brunet bit his bottom lip, and the older man could tell he was having trouble deciding how to word what he wanted to say next. "I…I don't think I'm going to get much sleep down there tonight."

Again his mouth went to ask why, and again his gut instinct told him not to. This time, however, the difference from his usual internal warnings became apparent. Rather than the panicked urgency that the feeling usually brought along, it felt as though there was a voice in the back of his head, calmly telling him to let the matter be.

Funny how it struck him as more comforting than foreboding.

Shaking his head, the older man thought on a solution to Jonathan's latest words. The last time he made the suggestion was also the last time they were on _the Sacred Heart._ There'd been no reason to offer him a room back home, but now, well… "You can stay in my room tonight, if it helps any."

The brunet seemed genuinely surprised at the offer; as if it was something he never expected to hear again. "I…really?"

Percival rolled his eyes. "No. I just said that to see your reaction. Yes, kid, really!"

The older man was surprised when the boy's response was to grin. "You know, you said that first part like it was a joke, but you probably would do that to one of the other crewmembers, wouldn't you?"

The older man grinned back, thankful that Jonathan was becoming old enough to get his sense of humor. "Maybe a few of them."

JD chuckled softly, though his expression soon turned serious. "They'd still look up to you anyway, you know…"

Percival flicked his nose before tossing his head back to the cabin's door. "Sorry kid, but I am see-_hoe_ not in the mood for that conversation right now. In fact, I'm pretty sure we've already had it. Now whaddya' say we head on in and get whatever amount of sleep we can before Todd wakes us up with another nauseating breakfast description."

Percival was surprised to find how relieved he was upon hearing the kid's next words, his mind going back to earlier that morning when wondering how Jonathan would react to the man's "special breakfast."

"I know," John answered with a grimace. "It's so disgusting. I don't want to imagine Todd doing anything like that, _especially_ with my breakfast."

The older man smiled. "Good to hear. Now c'mon, kid. Let's get some sleep. We deserve it."

_**A/N:**__ Not much to say about this one other than that I hope you enjoyed it. Until next time!_


	4. Chapter IV

_**A/N: **__First and foremost, thank you guys again for the amazingly supportive feedback. I hope you know that I'm not just trying to be polite when I say how much I appreciate it. As for the chapter itself, this one really fought me, though I think I'm finally content with the finished product, but we'll see how it goes. That being said, I hope you enjoy this one, and that it's not as hard to read as it was for me to write. Enjoy! _

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter IV:**

"_So we rode down to the river where the toiling ghosts strain for their curses to be broken. We'd go underneath the arches where the witches are in there saying, 'There are ghost towns in the ocean, the ocean…'"_

_-Cemeteries of London, by Coldplay-_

It was one of those mornings where he woke up next to her, if only in his mind.

As his body rested comfortably against the surprisingly warm cot, his mind remained in that gentle haze between awake and asleep. Here is where he could have sworn he felt her arm draped lazily across his chest; the smell of her hair caressing him out of unconsciousness and into the land of the living. A slight moan escaped him; happy to feel her so close, despite the constant turmoil their marriage put them through. But when he reached across to run his fingers through her hair, his mind jolted him out of the twilight and into the morning's bitter rays, turning his moan from earlier into a bitter, self-loathing growl.

Yesterday, Percival realized it'd been a while since he reflected on his life before piracy, but that didn't mean he never thought of it at all. It didn't mean he never thought of _her_; the person who he both loved and hated with a passion that could cause third degree burns. The older man drew in a supposed-to-be-calming breath, closing his eyes in the process. Instead of seeing nothing, he saw a pair of brown, smoldering eyes. They gazed at him, intent on whatever it was they wanted. Sex? Money? To please stop drinking, because we have a son that I could _really_ use some help with?

Percival clenched his teeth, his eyes still closed to the morning's judgmental light, as he tried not to focus on the memory of his three year old's footsteps. Closer and closer they came, until two, innocent eyes stared up at him, curious. He'd stopped himself from taking another swig when he realized he was being watched, or rather, _who _it was that was watching him. He thought he was still too young to understand what it was he'd been doing, but then the words left his mouth; a statement he would never forget for as long as he lived.

_"Daddy drinks a lot."_

Four little words, innocently proclaimed, was all his wife needed to hear in order to take his son and go. He tried so hard to stop them. He did all but tell her _why _he was drinking in the first place, his worry over her connection to him still weighing heavily on his mind.

If he had told her what had happened – if he had told her what it was he was being accused of – would she have reacted differently? Would she have stayed by his side with their son in tow, ready to face that damnation with him?

A bitter laugh escaped the auburn haired pirate as he realized the stupidity behind his latest query. His wife? No, definitely not. The only thing that would have come from telling her the truth was a quicker departure, but at least then his son wouldn't have witnessed the sight of his father drinking the world away…

At least, Percival thought silently, he wasn't like _his_ father. Even when his veins held more liquor than blood, he never, _ever_ took his anger out on his son _or _his wife.

Not wanting to think on it any longer, the Captain opened his eyes, glaring at the sun through the cracks of his cabin door.

But then his eyes fell on something wonderful. Something he had not witnessed upon waking up in over a year's time.

On the bed beside his own, Jonathan remained sleeping, his body curled in on itself in harmony. He was the perfect picture of peace; a picture that gave _him_ peace.

Sitting up in order to crack his neck, Percival couldn't help but think on his last and final drinking binge. He had expected everyone to abandon him, much like his former wife, but instead, they'd chosen to come together; to talk him through it as best they could.

Jonathan included.

Standing up from his cot in order to put on both jacket and tricorn hat, the Captain removed himself from his cabin, making sure to close the door quietly on his way out.

He'd tell Todd to ring the bell a little later than usual, just to give the boy some extra sleep.

** -MV- **

When Jonathan next woke up, it took him a few moments to realize where he was. When his surroundings finally settled in on him, the used-to-be-cabin-boy couldn't help but smile. It'd been so long since he slept in his father's cabin. He never thought he'd get to again. Not that he particularly _needed_ to anymore, but there was a certain comfort about falling asleep in the older man's presence. Maybe his thinking was naïve, but the brunet liked to imagine that it helped the Captain as well. After all, he must've been having some trouble falling asleep if he ventured out onto the main deck at such an hour. Upon entering the cabin, Jonathan had helped him pull out the small cot. Thinking that was where he'd be spending the night, he went to crawl under the covers. Until, that is, the older man got in himself, silently indicating for John to take the bed.

If Percival fell asleep easier on the cot rather than his usual place of rest, then maybe his presence really _did_ help ease his mind.

The thought made JD smile. So often did the older man come to his aid. It was nice to think that, in his own little way, he was able to help him in return.

Jonathan rolled over to face the now empty cot, not surprised at all that the older man was already up and about. But now that he was alone in the cabin, the young brunet couldn't help but dwell on what made him take residence in the Captain's room to begin with.

The journal. He should never have read that journal.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the script staring up at him. The entry he read played over and over again in his mind, his curiosity increasing at a rapid pace. He felt horrible for what he did. Not only had he neglected what it was the Captain had told him to do, but he had completely and utterly invaded another individual's privacy.

And yet…another reason he felt so guilty was that he wasn't feeling guilty _enough._ Yes, he felt bad for doing what he did, but there was still a prominent part of him that not only wanted to read more, but felt as though he _should_ read more. Something in his gut kept nagging at him. No, not nagging. _Assuring_. It was as though a quiet voice in the back of his mind kept trying to tell him that it was okay. But what sense did that make? Surely it was his own desire to find out more about the person's life that was deceiving him into thinking it was okay to read further. He should've been feeling guiltier than he was. The idea of picking up the journal again should've nauseated him.

But it didn't.

The morning bell went off with a jolt, and Jonathan wasn't sure if he was relieved for an excuse to leave his thoughts behind or upset to be taken away from them. Doing his best to regain his mood upon first waking up, the brunet laid in bed for another moment or so, reflecting on the comfort therein and deciding to carry it with him for the rest of the day. He couldn't make his mind up about the leather bound book, but he wasn't going to let the problem dictate how he conducted himself.

If there was one thing John knew for certain, it was that there were much more serious problems in the world than things like forgotten journals.

**-MV-**

"Now that's what I'm talking about!"

Jonathan pouted as Turk collected his shillings off of the table between them, his dice staring up at him from where they just landed.

"Do you see what you get, JD? Do you see what you get when you mess with the warrior!"

The brunet rolled his eyes. He loved Turk like a brother, but if he had to pick one thing about him that he didn't like, it was his overly competitive attitude. "It's just a game of dice, Turk…"

"Aw, don't get upset, buddy. You'll win eventually."

"I'm not upset! And you're being condescending, just to let you know…"

"What are you talking about? I call you that all the time."

"But your tone was condescending. I'm not a kid, Turk. You don't need to talk to me like that anymore…"

The surgeon, who had been grinning playfully, paused from collecting his prize to look up at his friend; expression taken aback. He opened his mouth as if to say something and stopped. John tried not to frown further at what he knew was probably getting ready to leave the pirate's lips. "You kind of are, buddy." Thankfully, he didn't say that, but the mere possibility that he could have put the teen into an even worse mood.

God, what was wrong with him? He'd been fine all day up until now. The Captain's words about hormones and various mood swings filled his head for a moment, causing him to silently curse the whole growing up thing.

"I'm sorry," Turk finally answered. "Sometimes I guess I forget, that's all."

And just like that, Jonathan's anger dissipated, though instead of feeling relieved, he just felt awful. "I'm sorry, Turk. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I just feel like I'm caught in between these two worlds. Childhood has my right arm and adulthood has my left. They're both pulling at the same time, making me tired and frustrated. I never wake up knowing for sure which one's going to overpower the other. One day I'm a kid and one day I'm a 'young adult.' At this point, I'm preferring the kid side, since whenever the adult side takes over, I always end up being a jerk. Maybe it's because I'm just not ready to let go of that part of me yet. I don't know…"

Feeling embarrassed, but not particularly sure why, the brunet was grateful when his best friend's response was to smile. "JD," he started up instantly, "You are definitely not a jerk. If this ship had a 'Who's the biggest jerk' contest, you'd come in last. What you're going through is normal. Some days you _are_ going to wake up feeling like a kid, and other days, you're going to feel more like an adult. One day both sides will even out and you won't wake up feeling stuck in between the two. That doesn't mean you'll lose your childhood either. I know, I know – you have to be a responsible adult, but that doesn't mean you can't be a kid at heart. I mean, look at me: Do you think _I'm _always responsible and mature?"

"No."

"Thanks for agreeing with me so easily…"

JD smiled, relieved to see that Turk was smiling too.

"I'm serious though, buddy, you don't have to be afraid of this. It happens to everyone. You can be an adult and be a good, fun guy. It's only when you let the trials that come with being an adult warp your outlook completely that you start becoming a jerk."

Jonathan couldn't help but wonder if his crewmate thought of Captain Percival that way. Funny how the same person Turk had problems with was the same person Jonathan wanted to become. Maybe the Captain wasn't the most sensitive man in the world, but what made him so admirable was that he was able to keep going, day in and day out, despite all he'd been through in his life. And more than anyone, John knew that, at the end of the day, the auburn haired pirate was truly a morally sound individual; good heart still intact.

"Thanks, Turk," he finally responded, his words having helped ease his mind. "I really do appreciate it."

"Anytime, buddy. I'm here to help. Now do you want to play again or should I just take the rest of your shillings now?"

JD grinned. "Later, definitely, but I think I'm going to go up to the main deck for a while. Do you want to come?"

"Nah, I'm alright. I think I might head in early, actually."

"Really? But the sun's just starting to set."

"Yeah, I know, but this is the first time I've been able to sit down all day and I'm exhausted. Besides, I have early morning steering hours this week, so I should really get as much sleep as I can. Re-match tomorrow?"

The used-to-be-cabin-boy nodded. "Definitely."

With a final goodnight, Turk headed towards their sleeping quarters, while JD headed for the deck, eager to settle down with the sun.

**-MV-**

Jonathan was well aware that he didn't know everything about each individual crewmember of _the Sacred Heart._ He was admittedly closer to some more than others, even if he _did_ consider the lot of them his family. Still, after being with them for so long, he would have liked to think that he knew their various hobbies and interests. With that thought in mind, he was surprised to find Phillip Wen up on the main deck, strumming away at a guitar he had never seen (or even knew) he could play.

The surgeon turned to face him while his fingers strummed away, making Jonathan realize at once that he'd been staring. "I, um…I'm sorry. I didn't know you could play guitar, that's all."

The older man smiled, calming the young brunet's nerves. He always found Phillip an intimidating man, but not in the same way Percival was. In fact, unlike the Captain, Phillip was very mild mattered. Maybe it was his usual serenity that both intimidated and relaxed him at the same time. His presence was oddly authoritative, though not exactly what he would describe as demanding either. Whatever the case, Jonathan couldn't help but respect him. (And he knew for a fact that the Captain did too. The older man had a weird thing against surgeons, but John could just tell by the way he interacted with him – and because he had made him head surgeon back at Sacred Heart, of course – that he thought he was gifted in his profession).

"I don't play often," the older pirate answered, startling young Dorian out of his thoughts. Jonathan watched as his smile from earlier morphed into a tight lipped frown; his expression suddenly grim. "But I felt a sudden urgency that willed me into playing."

"'A sudden urgency?'" he asked with obvious hesitance. "What do you mean?"

"I play my guitar when I need to calm down," Wen answered, "And the urge to play was strong."

Jonathan swallowed. Phillip, the calmest man he knew, felt the need to stay calm? Something was wrong. Something was _definitely _wrong. "Can I ask why you were feeling that way?"

Still strumming what the brunet was just noticing to be a very old guitar, the surgeon looked out and into the sun's settling rays, the light from which glistened gently onto the ocean before them. Finally, he spoke. "We should be there in less than a week's time; the first town that was pillaged by 'The Ghost Ship.' I have…a very bad feeling as to what we might find there."

The thirteen year old swallowed. "Well, I mean…whatever we find won't be good. Their whole town was pillaged, so –"

"It's not just that," Wen interrupted seamlessly. "It's just…something. I can't quite place it, but whenever I think of that town, my skin crawls. I've never been there myself. I have no mental image of what this town may or may not look like, but when I close my eyes and think of that place, I feel sick; uneasy. A feeling of dread takes over, and I…I needed to play, that's all."

John tried to ignore the goose bumps that had erupted across his skin during Phillip's contemplation. He shifted uneasily, wanting more than anything to curl up in his hammock and escape into another world. If only he had a book that he could – oh. Yeah…

"My apologies. I didn't mean to scare you."

John, who had taken to staring at the ocean in order to calm himself down, turned back to Wen, surprised to see he was looking at him. "I'm not scared…"

The older man smiled, causing the brunet to think of his earlier conversation with Turk. Only minutes ago he was saying how much he preferred childhood. Now he was wishing his adult side would kick in again, just so he'd stop feeling like a scared little kid.

"Well I am," Phillip confessed, surprising him yet again. "However, I shouldn't be, as the feeling is completely illogical. Nor should I have made you worry over the notion. I don't think our Captain would appreciate me filling his son's head with an irrational fear such as mine."

Jonathan was getting ready to tell him not to worry, until the realization of what was just said to him completely sunk in, causing his ocean blue eyes to expand. "What, I mean…did you just say that I was the Captain's –?"

"It's getting late," Wen noted, a ghost of smile on his lips. "I really ought to head in."

John turned back to the water, thwarted to see how dark it had gotten since he first came onto the main deck.

"You seem disappointed," the guitarist observed. "Not tired?"

"Huh? Oh, no, that's not it… I was just going to, um…read tonight. But the sun's going down, so I won't be able to see."

Wen raised an eyebrow, clearly not seeing the problem. "Why not just use one of the lanterns?"

"I was going to read in my hammock though. If I bring a lantern down there, no one will be able to fall asleep, will they? I just assumed the light would keep everybody up."

John was surprised when Phillip's reaction was to let out a soft chuckle. "Jonathan… This ship has been sailing for a long time. Maybe its passengers have changed here and there, but most who are here now have been here since the beginning; the first year in which this vessel took to piracy. We've slept under far worse conditions than the light of a lantern, I assure you."

The young pirate watched as the man before him reached over and took hold of his lantern, having brought it out in case he decided to play after night fall. "Here," he offered amiably, "Take mine."

**-MV-**

Curled up in his hammock with Phillip's generously offered light, the young teen made sure to wait until the rest of the crew was asleep before taking out the journal from its hiding place, eager to read another entry. A war still raged inside his conscious, trying desperately to decide whether or not his actions were justified, but after hearing such foreboding words from the guitar playing surgeon, he knew he needed something to calm himself down.

Opening the journal with less hesitation than yesterday, John went straight for the second entry, realizing at once that reading the book in order to keep calm was fairly counterproductive, what with his pulse having already begun to quicken.

_March 21__st__, 1709_

_ It's a boy! It's a boy, it's a boy, it's a boy! Oh God, you should see this kid! He's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful._ _I haven't seen those two smile like that in years. Life just got a lot more exciting, didn't it? I guess it was a good idea to start this journal after all._

John read the entry a few times, his theory as to who the woman was now proven incorrect. If the writer was married to the woman in question, then surely he would have written about his own excitement as a new father. Not that he didn't seem thrilled, but the journal's previous owner was obviously not married to her. So then who was this person, and how was she connected to the author? Either way, his excitement was contagious, and even though it happened sixteen years ago, John just couldn't help but grin.

"JD?"

The brunet immediately startled, stuffing the journal under his shirt as his entire body went rigid.

"It's okay, buddy, it's just me. I'm on steering duty, remember? I was just getting up when I noticed your lantern. Are you okay? I thought you'd be asleep by now."

Thankful that it was Turk (and that he'd been too far away to see him hide his treasure) Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, I usually am. I was worrying about something I shouldn't have been though, so I decided to stay up to help calm myself down."

"Seems counterproductive."

"I was thinking that earlier…"

The surgeon grinned, or at least JD thought he did, from what little he could make out of him through the dark. "Get some sleep, buddy. I know I'm going to be doing the same once my shift is over."

"I will. Be careful, okay?"

Turk grinned cockily, making Jonathan smile. Honestly, how did he and Captain Percival _not _get along? "___You know I do what I do when I do what I do_," he finally answered, smirk still in place.

After whispering one final goodnight, Turk made to leave, but was stopped by a question before doing so. "Hey, Turk?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you know Phillip played guitar?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just wondering…"

**-MV-**

Just as Captain Percival had predicted, _the Sacred Heart _was nearing the town that had been "The Ghost Ship's" first target, a week having passed since his announcement.

John watched from the railing as they drew closer, anxious as to what they would find upon making port. He knew the people there were in need of help, but to what extent? According to Governor Corman, every town – every victim – had been wiped clean of all necessary provisions, but the Navy was sent out to investigate shortly after the Governor received letters for help. John wondered what they left them in terms of supplies. They must have provided them with enough food and medicine for _at least_ a few months, right? He knew for certain that Percival brought extra medicine from home in order to leave with those they came across, so even if the Navy left them with more food than they did medicine, the Captain would be able to make up for whatever it was they were lacking.

The toll of the bell jolted the teen out of his quiet contemplation. Pushing himself off of the railing, the young brunet gathered around the wheel with the rest of the crew, waiting patiently for the Captain's next announcement.

"Now listen to me very carefully," he started up at once. "We're about to make port in a town that was robbed blind by 'our kind.' Keep in mind what I told you ladies earlier this week: we are to treat these people with respect, you hear? Your job is to gather as much useful information as you can without getting us kicked out in the process. Even with the Governor's seal of approval, _their_ Governor has more than enough power to ban us from ever returning. Granted, we _are_ pirates. Those kinds of restrictions don't usually apply to us, since our lot are known for breaking them, but this life of piracy isn't like our last. We're not here to grab the goods and go. We're here to actually _help._ So behave as you would if our town was pillaged instead of running rampant. If I find out that any one of you made these people feel threatened, there _will _be consequences. Understood?"

"Aye!"

"Very well then. Now get your asses into gear and let's haul this baby in."

The crew scattered into their various positions, ready and raring to make port.

After several minutes of running around the ship, doing their best to ensure that their arrival would not cause a scene and draw unnecessary attention to themselves, the crew of _the Sacred Heart_ finally calmed down; their vessel having anchored with no problems whatsoever.

The calm, however, did not last long.

Zombie like, Jonathan walked to the edge of the ship, staring out at the town before him with a look of complete and total horror. It wasn't long at all till he felt the rest of the crew by his side. Skin now deathly pale, the pirate turned towards Phillip Wen. The usually calm man could only stare at the town in question, the look on his face filled with undeniable grief.

Having abandoned his post at the wheel once _the Sacred Heart _made port, Captain Percival bypassed his crew to stare at the town as well; the same town they had spent the last week sailing to; the same town they'd been getting ready to save.

Only Jonathan was able to see his expression from where he stood, and what he found there was impossible to pinpoint; the Captain's appearance now holding every negative emotion one could think of. Confused desperation lingered beneath his eyes, while his jaw clenched tightly at the sight before him, the lines on his face somehow emphasized with pain. "How," he managed through gritted teeth. "How in God's name could this have…"

He never finished the question, but no one really expected him to. Not when any of them had an answer. Not when every single one of them was just as confused – just as horrified – at the sight that lay before them.

For as far as the eyes could see, the town remained motionless. No sign of life emerged from the houses; no sound erupted from the docks in which they'd made port. As far as any of them could tell, only one form of life still existed.

John could barely watch, his stomach begging for release, as hungry rats gathered around the town's now dead inhabitants; eating to their fill.

_**A/N:**__ I'm at a loss as to what to say here, especially given the end of this chapter, so I'm just going to leave it at that and hope that you guys enjoyed it, despite the ending. Until next time._


	5. Chapter V

_**A/N: **__Before we begin here, thank you guys once again for all of the amazing feedback so far. Believe me when I say that it never goes unappreciated. As Dr. Cox would say, "Fact." ;) Anyway, I don't have much to say this time around. (My author's notes have been oddly short as of late, haven't they?) So I'll leave you alone to read the next chapter. Enjoy!_

**Chapter V:**

"_I'll show you mine if you show me yours first. Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse. Let's un-write these pages and replace them with our own words."_

_-Swing Life Away, by Rise Against-_

Not being able to take it any longer, Jonathan lunged forward, the contents of his stomach spewing out and over the railing of the ship. A hand was on his back now, resting there as if to comfort him. At first, he thought it was Turk, since the Captain was still at the front of them all, unable to reach him. But when he looked up from his sick meeting the water with a nauseating splash, the brunet was surprised to find Phillip there instead.

"I should have said something," he muttered grimly. "I thought…I thought I was just being paranoid. I never thought that…"

The older man trailed off as Jonathan felt the familiar rise of vile meet his throat. He wanted to tell the surgeon that it wasn't his fault. That even if he _had_ said something, it would have been too late, regardless.

But instead he just threw up again, hating himself for being the only one to do so.

"The Navy never came here, did they…?"

The question was asked by Christopher, whose voice held an undeniable amount of grief.

"No," the Captain answered grimly, having already figured out what transpired. "No, they did not. Governor Corman said he sent them out to investigate the whereabouts of 'The Ghost Ship,' but that was months ago. And since he didn't send them out right away to begin with, then this town – the first one that was hit – has been without provisions for months…"

Jonathan swallowed, his stomach threatening to spill once again.

"Big Guy," Percival started up suddenly, tone still low and grim. "You are to come with me to help look for any survivors. We leave immediately."

Jonathan turned to Shilling Guy, who nodded at once, leaving the pack and following their Captain off of the ship and onto the dock. It wasn't until he was off of the ship completely did the Captain turn around to the rest of the crew. His comment was directed towards all of them, but the brunet could not help but notice how his eyes connected with his own, if only for a moment, before saying what he said next. "Stay here. I don't want you seeing this."

**-MV-**

Hours passed, and still the crew members of _the Sacred Heart_ sat in waiting on the ship. Silence ensued as anxiety grew around them, wondering what was taking both their Captain and the tallest of them such a long time to come back. At one point, Jonathan went to walk towards the railing, wanting to see if Captain Percival was on his way home, but Turk had lightly pulled at his wrist, easing him back down into their spot against the mast. "Don't," he warned quietly, his normally expressive tone now chillingly mundane. "Your stomach doesn't have any more to give."

And so they sat. Waiting, waiting, waiting, until –

The dock awakened with footsteps, every member of _the Sacred Heart _now turned towards where they'd emerge, hoping – praying – that they were alright; that the two would come back with others behind them.

Captain Percival and the tallest of them entered the ship, completely unscathed. Well…physically, anyway. Both men held an expression of obvious repulsion as they visibly tried to restrain themselves from letting their horror show. Slowly, the older man shook his head; the gesture aimed at everyone on board. "No one," he stated bluntly, voice thick with exhaustion and disgust.

JD shivered. A whole entire town – gone. How long had they suffered? How long had they waited for help?

Suddenly, the brunet's determination to find "The Ghost Ship" multiplied. He hadn't realized it himself, but up until now, he hadn't been particularly eager to find it. Not that he _wasn't_ eager, per say, but he was definitely lacking some enthusiasm; most of his excitement having been focused more on being out at sea again than anything else. The mission at hand had taken a back seat in his mind, but now it was grasping the wheel, ready and raring to go.

What kind of crew was this; these mysterious pirates that remained unseen? How did they get away with robbing these people blind? And why were they pillaging all of their provisions rather than aiming for the jewels; the money? Did they realize the full extent of what they were doing? The destruction they left in their wake?

Question after question raced through the young teen's mind, but another question was asked instead; one that all of the crewmembers wanted to know.

"Captain," Wen started calmly, "Where to now?"

The auburn haired pirate stared blankly at the water, quietly refusing to look back at the town in which they just left. "We move on," he finally answered. "We proceed as we would have. We make our way to the next town that was targeted, except this time, we pray to a God that may very well not exist that we find somebody – _anybody_ – alive."

**-MV-**

After making his announcement, the Captain headed straight towards his quarters, closing the door behind him. He and No Name had searched that town thoroughly and God… Percival was not an easily traumatized man, but he knew he was going to have trouble sleeping tonight, if not for the next several weeks… Foolishly, he thought he'd be able to handle it, at least to a certain extent. He was used to death, after all; his life as a physician and his life as a pirate having gotten him familiar with the sight of a dead body, but this…this was not the same. Both he and No Name had stumbled over abandoned, rotten corpses, while searching desperately for any signs of life. There had been more than one occasion in which a body had blocked them from searching more thoroughly; forcing them to move the decomposing victim out of their way.

The search itself wasn't what took them so long, however. It was clear in only a half an hour's time that the town's inhabitants were all deceased. What took them so long was the burial; something Percival had insisted upon doing. He and No Name found two shovels at once – not a particularly hard find in a town with three different blacksmith's – and went straight to work.

"Shouldn't we get the others to help?" It wasn't a complaint on No Name's part; his tone having been too serious for his usual, day to day antics, but the older man knew his answer regardless.

If the rest of the crew was summoned, then that meant _all_ of them would come, and if all of them came, then that also meant –

"No," he answered firmly. "No. No one should be made to see this…"

"…Agreed." The taller man said no more after that, having already figured out why it was the Captain didn't want anybody – or rather, _somebody_ – there with them.

Tired and smelling of death, Percival combed a hand through his curls, skin still crawling with disgust. Disgust for what he'd just witnessed, disgust for what they'd just done, but most of all, disgust for Governor Corman, whose complete lack of competence was what made those people rot in the first place.

No, that wasn't entirely true. The crew of "The Ghost Ship" was what caused those people to live under such grave circumstances, but the Governor could have helped when he had the chance.

_"These people; these targets…they've sent us letters for help; letters of warning, and it's time we take them seriously."_

"It's time we take them seriously." Wouldn't that imply that he didn't, at first? And what of his Navy? How long had it taken him to finally send them on their way?

The older man knew that the Governor didn't realize they were dead. If he did, he wouldn't have given him his seal of approval for entering the towns, but how in the _hell_ could he have let that happen in the first place!

_"I sent my people months ago, but the Navy comes back empty handed each and every time."_

Wait a minute… Maybe it _wasn't _the Governor's fault. At least not entirely, anyway. Yes, there was no question that he should've acted sooner after receiving those letters, but the Navy… If the Governor sent them to ask the towns what they knew of "The Ghost Ship" and they came back – _multiple times _– without evidence, did that mean that… Had the Navy actually _known_ they were dead? If the town's occupants were deceased the first time the Navy came around – which was extremely probable, given the state those corpses were in – did their fear of "The Ghost Ship" intensify upon witnessing their destruction, leaving them too afraid to continue with their assignment? Did they decide to tell the Governor that no information could be collected in hopes of avoiding "The Ghost Ship" all together?

As the pieces finally fell into place, a deep seeded anger swelled up in the older man's chest; pulsing – _pounding – _with a rage he hadn't felt in over a year. Those _cowards. _Those miserable, miserable _cowards!_ If the Governor hadn't delayed in sending those people the help that they needed, if the Navy had actually decided to _tell _him what they found instead of lying, if Governor Corman had called on _him_ right away instead of those _incompetent fools_, then maybe, _just maybe_, none of those people would be _buried in the ground!_

Suddenly, Captain Percival was up on his feet, his arm sliding across his desk with undeniable rage. Items scattered everywhere; quills, compasses, jars of medicine… They landed with a crash on the floor, but the impact wasn't satisfying enough; not for him, anyway. Not after what he just saw.

_Rotten corpses; the whole entire town reduced to abandoned, rotten corpses. Men, women, children – and why! Because Governor Corman didn't take them seriously. He sent the help they needed far too late, and the help he _did_ send were a bunch of yellow bellied cowards!_

And wasn't that just like the Governor too? His having been tricked by the Navy so easily? After all, this was the same man who was tricked by Robert Kelso; the same man who didn't take Percival seriously before sending him off into damnation.

The auburn haired pirate punched the wall before him; hard. Over and over again he swung, his knuckles bleeding from the constant impact. Having already flipped over his desk, the Captain went to do the same to his bed. He turned around, ready to toss it over, but instead of marching towards the mattress, he stopped – frozen in place – as his eyes took in the sight of his now open doorway, young Jonathan Dorian standing in its frame.

**-MV-**

John stared up at his mentor, wide eyed. He knew that Captain Percival had a temper. He knew from watching him interact with the crew of _the Sacred Heart – _both on the ship and back at home – that he was more than capable of getting angry. While he wished for the Captain's sake that he had better control of his anger, he also knew that he'd be hard pressed to find anybody who could go through what Percival did and still end up being an optimistic ray of sunshine.

But this…this, he'd never seen before. The Captain had his temper, yes, but he'd never _completely destroyed_ a room.

Doing his best not to visibly tremble, John scanned the room in which he'd just interrupted Percival's private tantrum. Broken jars of medicine lay scattered about the floor; the glass shards making him even more hesitant to come in. Maps hung in tatters on the wall, as if he had literally clawed his way through them in order to reach the wooden planks. The desk in which he'd watched him calmly work on new medicine now laid on its side; a good ten feet from where it usually stood.

It was the hole in the wall that really scared him though. Not so much in that the older man had taken multiple swings at it, but because of the scars it left on him in the process. The knuckles on his hands were already bruising, though it was hard to make out under the blood that coated his skin.

How deep in his rage had he been for him not to have noticed what his swings were doing to his own body?

"Jonathan…"

The brunet blinked, taken aback by not only the interruption, but the cautious tone in which his name was said. The Captain made to walk towards him, and without thinking, he instinctively stepped back.

The look that crossed the older man's face made him regret his move instantly. Percival was an _extremely_ hard man to read, but there was an obvious pain there, if only for a second, when Jonathan's reaction upon him coming closer was to automatically step away. In the back of his mind, the young man _knew _Percival would never hurt him; would never hurt _anybody_ he cared for, but he'd been struck by more people than he dared to admit, some of which were supposed to care for him too…

"I just wanted…" Jonathan trailed off. Why had he come to the cabin again? "I just wanted, um… Christopher has the wheel, but you…you left before telling him the location of the next town. He needs to know if…if you can let him…"

Without waiting for an answer – a stupid mistake, since the Captain was not a man who liked to be walked out on – Jonathan turned to leave. It wasn't until he was down in their sleeping quarters, body still trembling, did he realize that Percival didn't yell at him for running; didn't yell at him at all.

**-MV-**

The older man stared at his now empty door way, heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach. That wasn't supposed to happen. That wasn't supposed to be seen. Jonathan was _never_ supposed to see him that angry. _Ever_. His destructive outbursts were supposed to remain in the realms of his private life. They were not for anybody's viewing pleasure, _especially_ Jonathan's.

Percival closed his eyes in distress, the image of the young brunet high tailing it out of his room still painfully fresh in his mind.

_"Daddy drinks a lot."_

No. Oh God, no. It was happening again, wasn't it? His corrupted outlook on life was becoming more and more visible to those around him. And not just to anybody, but to those who he cared for the most; the people who were never supposed to see that side of him.

"_Daddy drinks a lot."_

No, please. He couldn't do that again. He couldn't take it.

"_Daddy drinks a lot."_

He never hurt them; would never hurt _anyone_ he cared for. It's why inanimate objects were the subject of his rage. They couldn't feel, couldn't hurt, yet somehow – someway – the people he cared about were _still_ ending up affected by his outbursts. Maybe his son never _chose _to leave, but his ex-wife sure as hell did. It wasn't because of his temper though, considering she had a powerful one herself, but it was still because of his inability to keep his suffering from the eyes of those who would not understand; of those who were not meant to see it in the first place.

"_Daddy drinks a lot."_

"_I just wanted… I just wanted, um…"_

Percival closed his eyes and swallowed; hard. He didn't want to think about it, so instead, he walked himself out of the cabin and onto the main deck, instructing Christopher on where to sail towards next.

**-MV-**

After several minutes of sitting in his hammock, alone and uninterrupted, Jonathan was finally able to calm himself down. As his thinking became clearer, however, his actions from earlier only made him feel worse. He couldn't _believe_ he backed away from his father like that. Percival, of all people, would never strike him. Sparring practice was one thing, but the auburn haired pirate would never use him as a means of expelling anger. And while the display of rage had admittedly thrown him off guard, John realized upon further contemplation that he was never supposed to witness what it was he had walked in on in the first place.

When Christopher first asked him to go see the Captain, Jonathan knocked several times before stepping in. Even then, his deciding to open the door rather than turn away was based off of the havoc he heard from inside. He thought the older man may have been in danger, somehow. Not that he would have been able to do anything that Percival wouldn't have himself, but he stepped in regardless. Only then did he find that it was the man's possessions in dangerous territory; not the man himself.

Yes, the sight of such anger shocked him, but when he took the time to think about what had just transpired _prior _to Percival's outburst, was it really that alarming? The Captain had just found – _and entered _– an entire town of corpses, for God's sake. Such an experience was bound to leave the older man feeling as though he could (and apparently, would) destroy an entire room. And while the sight may have been a frightening one, wasn't it better for him – for anybody, really – to take their anger out on an inanimate object rather than a person?

Hadn't he himself wished that certain people in his life – be it his late brother or the members of _the Fractured Enid_ – took to the habit of hitting a wall rather than, well…

Inhaling slowly, Jonathan wondered if returning to the main deck was a good idea or not. He wanted to apologize to the Captain, he did, but he wanted to do so in private. He was the only one who saw the older man do what he did, so if he was still out by the wheel, then now was not the time, as apologizing in front of everybody didn't strike him as a good idea.

Well then, what to do now? After the day they'd had so far, he was admittedly tempted to lie down and rest, until he remembered where, exactly, he currently was.

And the fact that he was the only one in the room.

With little to no hesitation, the young brunet reached out to the secret compartment, pulling out the leather bound journal and opening it to the next entry.

_April 2__nd__, 1709_

_It's been a while since I've taken the time to write, but I've been very busy. It's the enjoyable kind of busy though; the kind that gives you something to wake up to. Besides the new baby (who is doing well, by the way) I decided to finally go ahead and open up shop. I'm not sure how many people will be interested, but this is something I enjoy doing. And honestly, I can't imagine a greater practice; for anyone, really – the opportunity to live off of something you love; something you'd do without profit. Even if the whole thing ends with just a few shillings in my pocket, I don't think I'll regret this new venture of mine. _

_I need to wrap this up now. Despite his worry over my latest decision, he's coming over to help me set the place up. Dare I say it, but I think he admires me for following this passion of mine, be it a needed practice or no. _

_Ah, speak of the devil. I should wait and see how long he'll knock before wondering where I am. Maybe I'll jump out the side window and sneak up on him from behind. Okay, now that I've written that down, I'm going to go ahead and do it. If you never hear from me again, it's because I've been strangled._

Jonathan couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. God, laughing was the very last thing he thought he'd do today, yet here he was; hand over his mouth to prevent anyone from hearing his sudden outburst.

He had no idea who this person was, but he liked him. He made him feel…better.

"Jonathan, you down there?"

The thirteen year old jumped, Christopher's interruption having pulled him away from the journal for the second time in a row. "Yeah, I'm here. Is everything okay?"

"I don't know, buddy, you tell me. The Captain wants to see you in his quarters…"

The used-to-be-cabin-boy went from happily amused to nauseatingly worried. Oh, God, maybe he really _was_ in trouble! "Coming," he answered with a shaky breath, stuffing the journal back into its compartment before doing so.

Making his way up to the main deck and towards the Captain's cabin, Jonathan couldn't help but wonder why it was he was going to be yelled at. Probably the invasion of his privacy, since it was apparent he never actually heard him knock. If the accusation had been thrown at John just a few weeks ago, he would have responded by saying that he'd never invade someone's privacy; that doing so just wasn't him.

But with the journal's latest entry still fresh in his mind, he knew he wouldn't be able to use that excuse; not unless he wanted to be dubbed a liar as well.

**-MV-**

Captain Percival paced his cabin in silence, hating himself for being nervous over the matter at hand. It wasn't until he was done talking with Christopher did he realize that Jonathan was nowhere to be seen. When he thought about looking for him, the thought that followed was a bold faced _no._ The kid was obviously scared of him, so going after him – even if his intentions were good – was most likely going to be misinterpreted.

That thought, however, led to another one: Why was he avoiding not only Jonathan, but the situation in its entirety? It was as though his life was on repeat – over and over again he would make the same mistakes, and over and over again he would avoid the discussions that followed.

But Jonathan had already proven himself strong enough to handle such conversations, what with the lad having talked him out of his drunken stupor just over a year ago.

So after cleaning up his cabin (which also involved throwing away the maps that were no longer eligible…) the older man told Christopher to locate his friend, in hopes that being summoned by the surgeon would ease the boy's mind.

Percival took a seat at his now upright desk as a clearly hesitant knock sounded at his doorway. "Who is it?" he asked, just to make sure.

"J-Jonathan."

The older man cringed. A stutter? Was he really that nervous…?

Silently trying not to hate himself, the auburn haired pirate invited him in, still not quite positive as to what he was going to say.

**-MV-**

Jonathan walked in quietly; blue eyes taking in the sight of the neatly fixed room. It was amazing how, only an hour ago, the place was in tatters. Now, if you didn't know any better, the only thing you'd notice was a few missing maps on the walls, but other than that, nothing.

Suddenly aware that he was being watched, the brunet turned to look at his mentor.

The older man sat at his desk; right arm resting over the chair's back while his sharp gaze took him in. The former cabin boy knew he must've appeared shaken, but it was due more to not knowing why he'd been summoned. As to whether or not he thought he'd get hit, Jonathan knew for sure now that such a thing would never happen; at least not from Captain Percival, anyway. And while the possibility of him getting lectured was fairly high, at least that would allow him the opportunity to apologize from before.

Yet, whenever John lifted his gaze long enough to look back at the physician, he couldn't help but notice that the sharpness from earlier wasn't sharp at all. The Captain wasn't staring him down, but observing him. Finally, the older man broke the silence, though his words were _certainly_ not what the brunet had been expecting to hear.

"I'm sorry."

Blue eyes shot up from the floor, clearly taken aback. "What?"

"You were never supposed to see that. That destruction, I mean."

"It's okay. I've seen a lot more than that, destruction wise. I've been in a battle of life or death, so really –"

"Stop it, Newbie. You know what I mean."

Jonathan cringed. He hadn't been referred to as "Newbie" in a while. Not that it was a particularly _bad _nickname, but in the context of their current conversation, he couldn't help but feel a little thrown.

"I'm talking about my anger and you know it. Now you know I have a temper, kid, because you've seen me yell at your fellow sailors before and yes, even some of our patients, but I know you were never expecting to see what it was you witnessed earlier, and trust me when I say that I wish you hadn't. But listen to me, Jonathan, and listen well: I would never lay a hand on you, you hear me? That's why my maps are in shreds; that's why one of the legs on my desk is loose. It's why –"

"It's why those things take the brunt of it all; it's because they can't feel pain."

Jonathan watched as Percival's eyes expanded, if only for a moment, before returning to their continual observation of the young teen in front of him.

"Yes," the older man answered, voice unwaveringly sincere.

Silence stretched before them as the brunet took a shaky intake of breath, not quite sure if saying what he was about to say would be enough to reach the auburn haired pirate before him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to back away from you before, I really didn't. It was just…it was instinct. And you…you shouldn't have to apologize for being angry; for ridding yourself of that anger the way you did. It's better to take that route than to let it boil underneath the surface for so long until it…until it just comes out, and you take it out on whoever's nearby instead… It's better to just…"

Jonathan trailed off; gaze unable to meet the searching blue eyes that continued to drink him in. Did the Captain understand what he was trying to say?

"Some were new; from the storm, I imagine. But others were visibly older…"

Jonathan looked back up at Percival, obviously confused. "Huh?"

"When we first found you; fresh out of the ocean and off of _the Fractured Enid._ I had to stitch you up, kid. The scars left on your body from the storm I could mend, but there were others that had already healed. Some of them looked only a few months old, while some of them looked as though they'd been there for a number of years…"

The brunet shifted awkwardly, gaze back on the wooden planks beneath him. "Maybe…"

Attention having been focused on the floor, Jonathan was surprised when a calloused hand wrapped itself around his wrist, quietly pulling him in. The teen startled from the sudden contact, though he wasn't about to complain. Was Percival trying to give him a hug?

But when the hand around his wrist stopped pulling when only a few feet remained in between them, John knew that his mentor had something else in mind, especially when that very same hand guided his own until it met the back of his head.

At first, Jonathan could only focus on how _curly_ the pirate's hair was. He was actually tempted to giggle, though the air in the room quickly reminded him that now was not the time. It wasn't until the Captain guided his hand just a little more towards the left did the young boy actually feel it; a scar the size of a knife.

The brunet couldn't help but cringe as his fingers grazed the mark, wondering if it still hurt.

"It doesn't," Percival answered for him, voice thick with something Jonathan couldn't quite place. "At least not in the way you're thinking."

The younger of the two nodded slowly. He didn't know why, exactly, but it was as though a sudden wave of sorrow washed over him, causing the back of his eyes to sting. "When did it happen…?" he whispered. He had assumed it was given to him during his early years of piracy, but now…

"When I was nine," he answered bluntly; voice still uncharacteristically low. "Bottle of beer to the head."

Jonathan sniffed, hoping the mist in his eyes wasn't visible. He knew Percival was not a man who either craved or wanted sympathy. His grief over what had happened to him would not be appreciated. Yet, when the brunet was honest with himself, he knew there was more to his tears than his Captain's broken past.

Maybe their experiences weren't _exactly _the same, but the two of them shared a similar experience from their pasts; one that Jonathan had thought (at least in terms of the crew) that he was alone in. They had something in common – more so than they already imagined – and only now were they finding out what, exactly, that was. Even after a full year of living under the same roof with one another, they were _still _learning about each other's pasts. It made him sad to think of all the time they'd lost; of all the times they could have helped one another and didn't, simply in that they never knew.

Then again, would that knowledge have really made a difference? Maybe for John it would have, but Percival wasn't a man whose past you could just walk in on. No, you had to be _invited_ in. Even if the brunet had known, this moment wouldn't be happening unless Percival permitted it himself, and while the subject at hand was a depressing one, there was a part of him that admittedly felt, well, special; special that he was being trusted enough to know. He didn't realize that it had bothered him so much up until now, but part of the reason the older man's earlier display of anger had upset him was due to the fact that he simply hadn't_ known_ howangry he'd been feeling. He wished his mentor could have called on him; could have opened up a little instead of resorting to smashing his possessions.

This, though…he never expected him to share _this._

The boy's fingers were suddenly clutching his father's hair; grasp not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to make his message clear.

"I know," was all that Percival said in response.

And it was all that Jonathan needed to hear.

_**A/N:**__ I debated for a long time, even during "My Captain," on whether or not I should mesh Perry's childhood from the show with Percival's childhood in the story. After hinting at various "occurrences" from JD's past, both in the prequel and in earlier chapters here, I thought it made sense to have Percival reflect on his own demons, since the two of them could grow closer because of it, even if it remains something they never fully discuss. Anyway, that's about it from me. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and are enjoying your summer as well. Until next time!_


	6. Chapter VI

_**A/N: **__Hey, guys! I can't think of anything in particular to say this time around, other than the massive appreciation and gratitude I have for all of you readers and reviewers. Call me a broken record, but I'm sincere when I say how appreciative I am of the feedback you've given me so far. It's never taken for granted, trust me. That being said, I will leave you guys alone now to read the next chapter. Enjoy!_

**Chapter VI:**

"_I've seen your flag on the marble arch, but love is not some victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah."_

_-Hallelujah, by Imogen Heap-_

Several weeks passed since the crew of _the Sacred Heart_ found the town in which they'd been out to save filled with the heart wrenching sight of all those who lived there deceased. Having followed the Captain's orders, the crew continued to sail towards each town that sent Governor Corman a letter for help.

And yet, each time they made port, the sight before them was a reflection of the first town in which they came upon; a town filled with rotten corpses.

Percival and Shilling Guy continued to search each village, as they also continued to bury the dead they found there. It was only after the third town when the auburn haired pirate finally caved into the taller man's request; allowing himself to ask a few of the crewmen for help when it came to burying the deceased.

When Phillip and Todd were chosen, Christopher had pulled Percival aside, his question burning at the tip of his tongue. "I'm surprised you chose Todd," he started off quietly. "I know it sounds morbid, since it's not that I _want_ to see what it is you've been seeing, but you do know I'd be willing to help, right? I mean, Todd's kind of, well…"

It was a rare moment of mutual respect between the two; the Captain quietly admiring Christopher's concern over the matter at hand, along with his willingness to forgo his own discomfort in order to help, but there was a certain reason why it was he hadn't called on the surgeon's assistance. "I know what you're thinking," he answered for him, tone void of his usual disdain when talking to the bald headed pirate. "Todd is as crass as a person can be, but he isn't foolish enough to make jokes about a situation like the one presented to us now. As for why I didn't ask for _your _help, well… You already have a job while we're docked at these towns, don't you…"

Upon witnessing the surgeon's look of confusion, Percival quietly nodded over to where Jonathan sat by the mast; blue, tear stained eyes staring out at the ocean and away from the fallen settlement.

"Watching me go is hard enough. Despite his obvious disgust, he wants to come with me and help; he wants to share the burden. You being here keeps him anchored while I'm gone. If the _both_ of us go, then you can sure as hell bet he'd find a way off this ship and into that God forsaken village. I won't allow it. I _can't _allow it."

Turk nodded his immediate understanding. "Believe it or not, I agree. ...You know I wouldn't let anything happen to him though, right?"

Percival shifted awkwardly. He hated admitting to anyone – especially Baldy – that he actually trusted them, but after everything they went through already… "I know you wouldn't. Well, when you're not drunk off your ass, anyway…"

The youngest of the two rolled his eyes. "That was _one time._ Are you ever going to let that go? It's been over a year now!"

"Don't care."

Instead of storming away from one another like they normally would have, the two found themselves quietly observing the star of their current conversation; their gaze hidden by the shadows in which they stood. "He doesn't throw up anymore, but he still looks just as devastated when we find a town like this. He still looks just as disturbed."

"Good."

Turk looked over at him quickly; expression sharp with anger. "You _want _him to be haunted by this? You_ want_ him to be scarred for life?"

"Of course not, you idiot, but if it came down to the kid being disgusted or the kid turning numb, then I'd pick disgusted each and every time. When sights like this no longer make him look the way he does now, then that's when I'll start to worry. The pain on his expression shows me that he hasn't completely hardened yet. That's a _good_ thing, Baldy. Whether you understand it or not, that's a very good thing…"

Christopher had only stared at Jonathan; the Captain's words sinking into his head and filling him with a new understanding.

Now, weeks later, they came across the fifth town on their list; the fifth and _final_ town. And yet, despite their hoping, what they found there was no different than the four towns prior to that one.

"This 'Ghost Ship' must be captained by the devil," Lonnie had muttered the following night at dinner, the look on his face shrouded with cynicism.

Percival had listened to the comment quietly; the same way he did with the rest of the crew's remarks. Upon finding the first village, his anger towards Governor Corman – or rather, the Navy – had only intensified. It wasn't until later, after his conversation with Jonathan, that he was able to calm himself down long enough to put things into perspective.

Governor Corman was a fool for having not taken those letters seriously. Governor Corman was an idiot for having been so easily manipulated by the Navy. Governor Corman was responsible for a crew that was even more selfish and cowardly than he was.

But, no matter how ill he thought of him, Governor Corman was _not_ the one who put those victims in the positions they were in now; buried several feet beneath the ground. That…that was "The Ghost Ship's" doing, and all be damned if Percival didn't want to see those bastards _pay._

As for who those bastards were, well…that remained to be seen.

With no town left to talk to for information, with no clues as to where this "Ghost Ship" now resided, where was he to sail his crew towards next? The ship was untraceable, but surely someone besides Governor Corman had to have heard of its existence during this tirade of theirs. After all, when something as big as this was taking place on the waters in which they sailed, _multiple _villages heard of it. With a twisted legacy like the one this crew was leaving in their wake, rumors were bound to unfold. Gossip was sure to travel here and there, reaching the ears of all who remained interested; of everyone who knew anything about the waters or had ties to those who sailed them. Something this big, this devastating, was bound to reach anyone who kept an ear out for stories such as –

Oh dear God, why had it taken him so long to think of her!

Gossip. Rumors. Ties to the sea.

If anyone knew _anything_ about this supposed "Ghost Ship," it'd be her.

The crew jumped as their Captain abruptly emerged from his quarters, his expression wearing an emotion that none of them had seen in several, several weeks: _hope._

"Baldy! Whaddya' say to steerin' this vessel to where you've really been dying to take her. I don't know about any of you ladies, but I could really go for a bowl of Carla's homemade potato soup."

**-MV-**

Jonathan would never forget how weird it was to stumble upon his reflection after not having looked at himself for months. It happened when he was originally dropped off at his hometown after his first voyage on _the Sacred Heart._ Without even meaning to, he came across a mirror, completely blown away with how much he changed since having first left home. (Though his leaving wasn't exactly what one would call intentional…) Still, Jonathan couldn't help but look back on the experience as a strange one, so _this _time before boarding his favorite vessel, the young teen was sure to bring a mirror with him, just in case.

And _boy_ did he make the right decision!

After the Captain made his announcement, the crew was hit with a sudden burst of something they almost forgot existed: _joy. _After weeks upon weeks of looking death in the eye, after weeks upon weeks of being unable to prevent what it was they so badly wanted to, the crew was more than ready to feel the familiar warmth of a place they so dearly missed; a place that was always able to make them feel like new. Of course, the Captain made it _very clear_ why it was they were traveling to the Pirate-Friendly Port to begin with. They had to talk to Carla – to anybody, really – for information on anything and everything pertaining to "The Ghost Ship." Still, it was obvious to all, not just to Jonathan, that Percival appeared farmore at ease at the prospect of their next destination.

It really was the perfect plan though. Not only were the possibilities of Carla having heard something extremelyhigh, but the time in which they were going there could not have been better.

It was years ago when their favorite port started drawing in pirates; word having spread fast across the sea that it was, in fact, a safe place for them to reside. Eventually, the town was borderline filled with passing crews; all of which sailed under the Jolly Roger. As word continued to spread that there was still a place for their kind to both relax and stock up, pirates really did take to calling it their home away from home. As the town grew more and more famous for its acceptance of those who were normally condemned, a celebration broke out among several of the crews. They proclaimed the town "A Pirate's Safe Haven," and continued to celebrate its existence for the week in which they were there.

That was the legend, anyway, since the incident happened before Captain Percival became, well, Captain Percival. Either way, the week of celebration stuck, and fortunately for them, said celebration was coming up on the very same week in which Percival predicted they'd arrive. A festival like the one they were getting ready to attend meant more pirates, and more pirates meant more people who might've heard something about "The Ghost Ship."

So it wasn't all too surprising that the crew of _the Sacred Heart_ was a blur of excitement. Jonathan, however, was excited for several other reasons. Besides the fact that the lot of them were in _serious_ need of some revitalization, he, unlike the rest of the crew, had never attended the pirate-friendly festival before. His excitement over being able to experience yet another new joy in life had him rocking on his heels, but there was more to it than that. Oh yes, there was something, or rather, some_one_, that made his usual optimism even brighter.

Elliot! After a whole year of daydreaming, wishing, and silently praying, he was finally, _finally_ going to see Elliot!

It was why he was so glad to have brought a mirror with him. He didn't want to stumble off of _the Sacred Heart_ looking like a scruffy seadog now, did he? Best of all, the festival brought out a _formal_ side to pirates. No one really had to, of course, mainly in that it was pretty damn hard to make a pirate do anything they didn't want to do, but it wasn't uncommon to see even the scruffiest of seadogs dressed up during the week of festivities, giving JD the chance to show off his handsome side.

_That's odd,_ he realized at once. _I can't recall ever caring about whether or not I looked handsome before. I think Elliot would like someone good looking though, so it's important that I try._

Having already washed his best pair of pants and the sharpest shirt he could find, the brunet pulled out what Percival had given him for his thirteenth birthday; slipping it on and quietly thanking God for having put the desire for such an item into his head to begin with.

The jacket was absolutely exquisite; something he _never_ thought he'd be able to afford. He never knew why he wanted it, exactly, but the garment in question had caught his eye over and over again; so much so that the seamstress had offered to sell it to him for less than its original price.

"That's very kind of you, but I still won't be able to afford it."

"What about your mentor? Doctor Percival makes fairly good money, doesn't he?"

Jonathan had actually squirmed at the suggestion. While it was true that his father made a decent amount of money, he still wasn't what one would call _rich,_ per say, not to mention, well…after having borderline nothing growing up, it was hard not to be extremely grateful for all that he had now. To voluntarily ask for such a thing struck him as selfish, more than anything else. He wasn't going to ask even more of the man who had already given him so much.

And yet, when his thirteenth birthday rolled around, said physician presented him with the very same jacket he'd been quietly admiring for weeks.

"But how did you know that I –?"

"On our way home from work, I saw you looking at it out of the corner of your eye; on more than one occasion there, actually."

"And you…you bought it for me?"

Percival, of course, had merely rolled his eyes. "No, Newbie, I stole it."

Jonathan had blushed while the older man pressed forward. "I don't know how much use you'll get out of it, but it's your birthday, so now's as good a time as ever to try it on."

The brunet had worn it with enthusiasm for the rest of the day, but after that, he hadn't found one real reason to wear the jacket again.

Now though…now was the _perfect_ time.

Carefully, the young teen slipped it on; enjoying the feel of silk against his skin. The gold stitching popped against the black of both the collar and the cuffs, which highlighted the red velvet that made up the body of the jacket.

After having buttoned the front of his garment, Jonathan adjusted both his hat and his sword before looking back and facing himself in the mirror.

The boy had never thought himself an attractive individual before. Not that he necessarily found himself _un_attractive, but he'd always felt too awkward in his skin to ever pay his physical appearance much attention.

Yet now, for the first time in his life, Jonathan felt attractive. It wasn't thought out of vanity or smugness, but out of a burst of confidence he never knew he had, at least pertaining to his appearance, anyway. Even the fact that he still looked younger than he was wasn't bothering him as much as it normally did. With his jacket against his skin, his sword against his side, and his hat placed on his head, Jonathan felt like he could walk up to Elliot with a fair amount of confidence.

"Sharp!"

The brunet whirled around, embarrassed, but when he saw Turk dressed in his formal wear as well, he couldn't help but grin. "You too! Carla will _definitely_ be impressed."

"Here's to hoping," he answered with a nervous shrug. "Hey, um…why are you dressing up again? I mean, I know it's for the festival, but is there, you know…another reason?"

Jonathan flushed, his friend's query having made him focus back on his original reason for bringing the mirror on board. "Well, I guess I want to look a bit more grown up since the last time I saw Elliot. Do you think she'll notice?"

When the brunet next turned around, his smile was quickly wiped away; the look Turk was giving him overshadowing the excitement he felt at the prospect of seeing his favorite waitress. The surgeon's expression held what appeared to be deep concern as worry emitted from his posture; a sad sort of dread lingering beneath his observant gaze. "Turk? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, buddy, I'm fine… Just…you know you don't _have _to dress up, right?"

JD frowned. That certainly wasn't the response he'd been expecting. "I know, but when do we ever get the chance? I've only worn this jacket once since the Captain gave it to me."

"Okay, so you're not dressing up _solely_ for Elliot, right? A part of you really does want to wear it then?"

John couldn't help the way his eyebrows came together; confusion over his friend's sudden interrogation getting the better of him. "Of course! I've been wanting an excuse to wear this since my birthday."

He was surprised when what appeared to be a small wave of relief washed over the pirate before him. "Well that's good. That you're also wearing it for yourself, I mean. …Jonathan, listen to me for a minute. There's something I have to –"

The bell tolled loudly, summoning the crew of _the Sacred Heart_ and alerting them that they were almost at port.

"Hurry up!" John shouted excitedly; his smile from earlier having already returned. "The quicker we haul her in, the quicker we get to see Elliot and Carla!"

Nodding, Christopher let his young friend drag him by the wrist; the knowledge of Elliot's new life weighing heavily on his mind.

**-MV-**

Captain Percival couldn't help but inhale deeply upon stepping off of _the Sacred Heart._ It felt so good to make port at a town that was not only full of life, but vibrant with it. The familiar sights and smells of his home away from home seemed to eat away at the tension in his shoulders, allowing him to breathe – _really _breathe – for the first time in several weeks.

What he enjoyed more than that, however, was the sight of young Jonathan Dorian. His awe struck expression took in the scene before them with wide, blue orbs. Mesmerized, the young teen gazed at the lanterns along the streets, hanging from their various perches and lighting up the ember sky. Percival couldn't help but grin; the sight of his son looking like he just won every precious metal in the world a much more pleasant image than the sight of him silently mourning over those who he had never met.

It wasn't until he turned to him, face still aglow, did Percival realize something else. The teen was almost completely clad in items he had purchased for him over the last three years, which somehow made him grin even more. The change in his appearance upon first meeting him really was remarkable. The used-to-be-cabin boy went from sickly skinny and visibly unsure of himself to looking like a healthy, young adult.

Mentally shaking his head, the auburn haired pirate decided to finally answer the brunet's buoyant stare. "See something you like there, kid?"

"Look at this place!" he answered excitedly, gaze turning back to the crowds of formally dressed pirates while his arms stretched out in welcoming. "I thought it was lively before, but wow!"

Percival, who had been getting ready to remind the brunet of why it was they were there to begin with, was caught off guard with another observation; one that shook him to his core.

He knew Jonathan was an optimistic individual; he knew he had a certain light inside of him that was lacking in so many, but there was something about that very same trait that now struck him as familiar. Perhaps it was the way he stood with his arms outstretched, embracing the town in front him. He'd seen that pose before – at this very place – but not just from Jonathan, oh no. He'd seen that light emit from only one other individual before; a person who had also shared a habit of opening his arms and embracing life.

And, eventually, death.

Percival scrubbed a hand over his face, not enjoying the rarity that was the eruption of goose bumps along his deeply tanned flesh. Why he hadn't noticed it until now was beyond him. He knew they shared just as many differences as they did similarities, so maybe that was it, but the sudden realization that the both of them shared such an immensely stunning light hit him with a bang. Honestly, how had it take him so long to notice? Yes, their personalities were different from one another's, in the grand scheme of things, but he thought he would have noticed it during their time together; when all _three_ of them were together.

Or perhaps that was just it. Perhaps it was Ben's lingering words of wisdom that added to Jonathan's pre-existing glow.

Whatever the case, it was hard for him not to think back on his first mate's last time at port. He'd been so happy to come back; to bring Jonathan for the first time…

"Captain? Are you okay?"

The auburn haired pirate shook his head for the second time in mere minutes, silently cursing himself for spacing out the way he had. Irritated by the thought of the rest of his crew seeing, the older man whirled around on his feet, ready to address the neatly clad pirates on the instructions he demanded to be followed.

"Listen up, ladies: I'm giving you tonight and tonight alone to sit back, breathe, and enjoy yourselves."

Apparently, this was not what the crew had been expecting to hear; their expressions of pleasant surprise matching the young brunet's beside him.

"But that doesn't mean that if you hear something – _anything_ – about 'The Ghost Ship,' to just go ahead and ignore it. You come and tell me immediately, understand? I'd love to stay here all week too, but if we find something before then, it is our responsibility to head back out to sea and pursue those rat bastards. Tomorrow is when I expect the lot of you to really start seeking information, but until then, enjoy yourselves, and for the love of God, try not to get too drunk."

"AYE!"

Percival rolled his eyes as the crew scampered off of the ship and into the awaiting town, knowing full well that his last request was going to be ignored.

Well, if you can't beat 'em…

The older man was preparing to act on the rest of said expression, turning around for his favorite bar, when the last of the crewmembers collided into his shoulder, clearly having been in a rush to reach his next destination. "Damn it, Baldy, watch where you're going!"

"Sorry, Captain," the surgeon answered hurriedly, clearly too excited to be angered by the nickname. "I just can't wait to see Carla again."

"Oh good Lord," the older man muttered. "I'm going to be nauseous if you keep that love sick nonsense up."

"Can you blame me?" Turk asked in response. "Carla's one of the few people in this world that you're openly nice to, so you can at least understand why I like her."

"I can understand why anyone would like her, you moron. What I don't understand is why she likes _you._"

"Charming."

Percival adjusted his jacket, eager to see the waitress himself. Maybe not for the same reasons as Christopher, but the surgeon was right in saying he had no problem admitting that he liked her. The only problem with talking to Carla was the inevitable confrontation between him and that princess, what with the two women being as close as they were. Still, Elliot wasn't _that _bad. She had been one of the many to talk to him during his state of grief, last they were there, and he had admittedly found himself softening towards her when he witnessed how truly upset she was over Ben's passing.

Not to mention she had made Jonathan smile on more than one occasion…

That thought led to another thought, of course. Or rather, a memory. Recalling what had happened after Jonathan and Elliot first met, the Captain reached out and grabbed Turk's wrist, preventing him from leaving once again. "Listen up, Baldy. Last time you went to that bar with our Newbie, I came back to find him wasted. He's older now, so if he wants one or two, I'll allow it, but that's _it_, Turtle-Top, you hear me? You better keep an eye on him this time. We don't have to worry about him anymore when it comes to his thing for Blondie, now that you've filled the kid in, but if I come back here and he's on the floor again, I'm going to – "

Scarcely did the Captain cut himself off, but the sudden burst of guilt stricken dread that sparked beneath the surgeon's worried gaze set a series of alarms off in his mind, preventing him from continuing with his statement. "Christopher," he started up slowly, voice already laced with a growl, "You _did_ tell John about Elliot, _right?_"

The pirate swallowed, clearly preparing himself for whatever negative reaction was to come. "I tried to, but –"

"_Shit!_"

The surgeon winced; his Captain's combination of both anger and worry causing him to feel even guiltier; a rarity for him, since he usually thought the older man's anger was just him being a jerk. Well, not all the time, but –

"I _told _you to tell him _before_ we made port!" The older man screamed menacingly, pushing him out of his thoughts.

"I tried to, honest to God! You can't blame this all on me though. I mean, why didn't _you _tell him?"

Christopher immediately regretted his words, the Captain's ice blue eyes now set to kill. "Oh, don't you _dare_ pin this one on me. I wouldn't have known _anything_ about Blondie's precious love life if you hadn't come running to me with the news. And even if I did, don't you think that hearing it from you would've been better than hearing it from me? If I had told him, I just would've come off as an overly protective –"

Percival cut himself off, realizing what he almost let slip in front of the surgeon. Growling, the older man focused back in on the conversation, not yet ready to voice what he suspected the other pirate already knew. "Just tell him already, will you!" he started up angrily. "He should be right around – Oh, God…"

Last he checked, the brunet was right by his side, but that was _before_ he made the announcement for his crew to disembark.

Oh shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit!_

"You _lost_ him!" Turk screamed frantically.

"I didn't lose him, you idiot! The kid knows exactly where he's going, which is why we have to move. _Fast._"

**-MV-**

Jonathan walked into the restaurant, trying not to do a little dance as he did so. He had been more than ready to wait for the Captain, but when the crewmembers of _the Sacred Heart_ came bounding off the ship and passed him in a swarm, the boy couldn't help but get whisked away in the excitement of it all, more than happy to follow their lead.

Now, as his senses awakened from stepping into the place he had so dearly missed, Jonathan couldn't help but feel excited; the sights, smells, and sounds overtaking him all at once.

"Jonathan?"

Even over the jubilant cries of both pirates and music alike, the young brunet recognized the voice instantly, turning to greet her with a smile. "Carla!" he shouted cheerfully.

The waitress put down her tray of overflowing mugs, practically running over to embrace him. "It's so good to see you again!" she responded eagerly. "And oh! Look how much you've grown!"

The young pirate tried not to blush at her words. There was something just so warm about Carla. Yes, she could be intimidating if she wanted to, but it wasn't her go to personality. A part of him even looked to her like a mother, despite their time together having been limited. She had treated him with such loving kindness; had radiated with a warmth his own mother never had, though that didn't stop him from missing her too…

"Christopher's been keeping me up to date with all of your lives," the waitress said after readjusting his hat. "How has living with our favorite Captain been?" she asked with a wink.

Jonathan chuckled. "One of the best years of my life," he answered truthfully. "And how are you? I heard you took that job as head waitress."

Carla beamed. "I did! Of course, that only triples my work load, but the pay is great and I can't get enough of all these different sea tales. The things a pirate will say when intoxicated is astounding."

"Been there," JD confessed with a sheepish grin.

The Latina waitress laughed. "That you have. You _are_ older now though. Interested in trying another?"

"Maybe later," the brunet answered hesitantly, not knowing how the Captain would react, but knowing that he didn't want to be drunk for whenever he got to see Elliot again.

As if on cue, the person he'd been silently praying for a reunion with stepped out of the back and onto the floor; a tray of beers in hand.

If Jonathan thought for a moment that the waitress couldn't get any more stunning, he was certainly proven wrong now.

A brown, leather corset gripped her chest perfectly; not too tight, not too loose, while the dress that showed underneath draped all the way down to her ankles; it's light, blue-green color enhancing the beauty in her eyes. John tried not to audibly gasp as his gaze connected with her own, a lone strand of blonde, golden hair falling in front of her cheek as he stared on, mesmerized.

A look of recognition passed over her face immediately. The brunet was overjoyed when she followed Carla's lead; abandoning her tray and running over to embrace him.

"Jonathan!" she shouted excitedly.

"Elliot!" John couldn't stop hugging her; didn't want to. God, was ever there a more attractive woman than the one he held now? Maybe her warmth was different from Carla's, since he never looked to Elliot like a mother, but her personality still radiated with a kindness he had taken to heart; had remembered after all this time.

Thank _God_ she remembered him too.

Controlling himself from reaching out to pull her back in, John let the woman before him break their hug, silently allowing her to step back and look him over.

"Look how much you've grown!" she commented instantly. It was her next comment that made his heart flutter though, so happy that she actually noticed. "And God, you look so handsome! You really are a young man now, aren't you?"

Jonathan's heart beat wildly beneath his chest; his emotions on an ultimate high. "Thank you… I, um…you look very pretty." The brunet hoped she didn't notice the way his eyes lingered over her chest for a moment as he looked up to meet her gaze, instantly embarrassed that they had. Honestly though, he hadn't meant to, but how on _earth _did he not notice those before!

"Aw, thanks!" Elliot answered promptly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm so glad you're back," she continued, not knowing what her words were doing to the young pirate before her. "We've really missed you around here; all of you. I have so much good news to tell you too! Oh! Here we go! Perfect timing!"

Jonathan didn't know what she was talking about, but good news for Elliot was bound to make him happy, right? Still smiling, he watched her bounce over to whatever it was she had noticed.

It wasn't until she went up to a complete and total stranger – it wasn't until her lips connected to his own – did he realize that it wasn't some_thing_ she noticed, but some_one._

Frozen in place, JD merely watched as the woman of his affection tugged a man over to where he still stood, unable to process what it was he just witnessed.

"Jonathan, let me introduce you to my husband, Sean. Would you believe that we only met a few months after you left? He walked in one day after having been out at sea for almost a year. He's not a pirate though, can you believe that? Not that I have anything against pirates, since I would obviously not be working here. In fact, I even made sure he was pirate-friendly before letting him court me."

"It's true," he added with a small laugh. "The question was so strange. Besides the fact that I was already attracted to her physically, it was the oddity about that query that really drew me in."

"Tell him what you do! Oh, John, listen to this: I have a feeling you'll like it."

"I explore the sea for various wild life," the man answered amiably. "There are so many rumors of leviathans out there, which is one of the reasons I became friends with several pirates in the first place, despite not being one myself. I want to try and see if these creatures are really a part of our world. I have yet to see one, but most of the reports are made by sailors and pirates alike. However, any contact with the Navy makes me feel like I'm insane, since they tend to drive that point home by what it is I do, but the pirates I've talked to seem interested in my work; eager to learn more about these mysterious monsters they've only caught glimpses of. So tell me, have you ever seen a leviathan?"

But Jonathan wasn't listening. He couldn't. It felt as though his world had just been shattered into a thousand little pieces. He knew – had always known – that Elliot and him could never actually be. He'd been told from the start that he was too young; too childish. It was why he had allowed himself to dream of her over the past year; accepting the fact that he could never be with her in reality. But when his life out at sea was reborn, when the possibility of seeing her again became more and more likely, the brunet had let his fantasies mesh with reality, fooling himself into thinking that the two of them could actually work. He wanted to dance with her the way he once had, but not with drunken laughs and ridiculous twirls. Instead, he wanted to dance with her with a passion and love that he'd felt for her all this time; that he was stupid enough – _moronic _enough – to believe she could feel for him too.

"Jonathan? Oh, sweetie, what's wrong?"

The brunet flinched, realizing at once that the back of his eyes were stinging; realizing at once that she noticed. No. No, no, no. He wouldn't cry in front of her; he couldn't. Elliot would only ever see him as a pathetic little kid, and crying in front of her would only further prove how right she was. "I-I have to go," he muttered softly, hating his voice for having chosen that moment to crack.

Turning to leave as quickly as he could, Jonathan's blue eyes widened upon seeing both his father and his best friend in the doorway; the both of them breathing as though they'd just ran the entire way.

God, they saw him get rejected, didn't they? They were witnesses to his humiliation; to his childish naivety.

Not being able to take it any longer, Jonathan ran away from the waitress, ignoring her as she called out to him. Trying so hard to fight off the tears, the brunet pushed past both Turk and the Captain. One of them had reached out to grab him, though he maneuvered out of their hold. He couldn't cry in front of them either. He wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of a condescending, "I told you so."

Breaking away from everyone who watched on, Jonathan ran as fast as he could to the nearest dock, grateful that no one was around to see him finally give in to temptation. He never knew what people meant when they referred to their heart as broken, but now, as the night's wind chilled his tear stained face, Jonathan was getting a pretty good idea as to what those people were talking about.

Throwing off his jacket and his leather tricorn hat, the boy collapsed onto the edge of the dock, bringing his knees up to his chest and bawling. He was so stupid for thinking that the women of his affection could ever love him. After all, he wasn't a young man, only a naïve, little kid. He wasn't even a pirate, was he? No. At the end of the day, he was just a stupid, little cabin boy; one that Elliot would never love.

_**A/N:**__ Is it weird that, even though I know what happens, I feel really bad for Jonathan? Probably. On a slightly random note, I know almost every musician and their mother has covered the song I used for this chapter, "Hallelujah," but I am such a huge fan of Imogen Heap's version that I knew I had to use it somewhere. Sadly enough, it fit this chapter pretty well. Anyway, if you ever have time to look it up, please do. Unlike a lot of other artists, she doesn't sing the entire version, but the part she does sing leaves me with goose bumps each and every time. Well, that's it from me. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, despite that heart-break of an ending. Until next time._


	7. Chapter VII

_**A/N: **__Okay, so I almost didn't get this sucker up on time. The power went out while I was editing the chapter, in which I automatically thought, "Crap, I'm not going to be able to post it!" And then two seconds later, bam: it came back on. Well, someone up there must love me, right? lol That being said, I need to play major catch up with this story. With the longer fics like this one, I'm usually two or so chapters ahead of myself, but the chapter you're getting here is the last chapter I have completed. (Only in terms of the actual writing, since the plot for this story has been completed for a while now). I say that only to warn you guys that I might not be able to reach my goal when it comes to posting every Friday, but all be damned if I'm not going to try. If it's any consolation, my falling behind wasn't due to me not caring. Life has just been doing that thing it does: frazzling the mind, busying the body, and everything else in between. Anyway, with all of that out of the way, I'll end this author's note with letting you guys know how much your feedback means to me. It's always appreciated; every last word, and never fails to pick me up even after a crap-tastic day, so thank you. Okay, enough out of me, yes? Onto the next chapter._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing. _

**Chapter VII:**

"_But I look at you, warm in your dream, while your mobile dances above. And I think to myself, 'It's a beautiful night,' and I know everything is gonna be alright."_

_-Everything'll Be Alright, by Joshua Radin-_

Percival stood in the entrance of the doorway, still breathing hard from the run. Honestly, it wasn't so much the physical aspect of the dash they just took part in, but the worry that accompanied it as well. Christopher stood next to him, the guilt apparent in his expression as they watched on, clearly too late. Blondie bent down to young Jonathan's level, asking him something that neither of them could hear above the crowd. It wasn't hard to guess what she was asking him though, what with her expression having been filled with obvious concern, while John went about avoiding her gaze.

It was only when the brunet turned around to find them standing there did Percival's guilt really sky rocket. God, if he had known this was going to happen – if he had known Baldy was going to chicken out – then he would've just told the poor kid himself, but now…

Eyes misted over, Jonathan bolted towards where the two of them still stood. At first, Percival seriously thought he was running _towards _him, not past, but when Christopher reached out to stop him from breaking away entirely, the older man recognized the brunet's intent at once. Unbeknownst to Jonathan, the Captain pulled the surgeon's hand off of the young pirate's collar, allowing his son to break free.

Turk turned to him, clearly confused, as he impatiently waited for the Captain's reasoning.

"He needs to be alone," he responded at once. "You saw his expression. He's going to lose it the minute he gets out of our sight."

"Exactly!" the bald headed pirate retorted. "He needs us right now. I'm his best friend and you're, well, his Captain, I guess… And okay, maybe he hasn't cried in front of me before, but I _know _he's voluntarily cried in front of _you._"

The next words were harder for Percival to admit than he thought they'd be, but the minute he said them out loud, he knew how true they were. "He's growing up, Turtle Head. He's not going to find comfort in crying to us anymore. He's going to find it embarrassing. Leave him alone. It may not be what you want, but it's definitely what he wants. For now, anyway…"

The Captain watched as Christopher slowly nodded, turning to gaze out of the restaurant and into the direction in which Jonathan just departed.

Resisting the urge to massage his already pulsing temples, the older man was surprised when he felt a small tap on his arm. "Captain Percival?"

Recognizing the voice at once, said pirate turned around to greet her, his shoulders visibly deflating as he did so. "Carla," he breathed wearily.

The waitress stood on her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck as he awkwardly placed his hands on her hips. He adored her, he did, but hugging anybody still managed to make him feel uncomfortable. The fact that he was even returning the gesture at all should have clued her in as to how much he really did miss her.

Having known him for years, Carla detected just that, appreciating his touch for what it was while pulling away before things got too awkward for him. "It's so good to see you," she said soothingly. "I'm sorry things started off the way they did. If I had known why he was so excited to see Elliot, I would have –"

"Don't apologize," he cut her off calmly. "He's not your responsibility. He's…he's mine. I should have been the one to tell him…"

Turk, who'd been staring out of open doorway, turned back around at the Captain's words, clearly surprised by the admission. He'd been preparing to say something akin to appreciation, but when his eyes met the woman he was talking to, nothing else mattered. "Carla." She almost didn't hear him; her name having left his lips in a mere whisper, but the minute his voice hit her ears – the minute she turned to meet the gaze of the man she'd been writing to for over a year – nothing else mattered to her either.

"Christopher!"

The Latina's hand grazed over Percival's arm lightly – a sign that they would definitely talk more later – before filling the five footed gap between her and Christopher Turk. She didn't get very far, however, what with the pirate meeting her halfway there.

Percival watched them embrace for only a moment, still not quite understanding how Carla could fall for a knuckle headed surgeon like Baldy. Okay, so the guy wasn't _all _bad, but still…

Heading for the bar, the older man was quick to order a tall mug of rum, surprised at the waitress who ended up serving him.

"I know I'm the last person you want to see right now," she started off hesitantly. "I know you probably hate me more than you ever have before. You think I'd be okay with that, given our track record. I don't expect you to agree, but I always thought, somewhere between the banter and the insults and the not-so-serious threats, we sort of had an odd kind of respect for one another. I don't know… Maybe respect isn't the right word, but I know you must be really upset with me right now, and if it's any consolation, I'm upset with me too. I never meant to hurt him. Honest to God, it was never my intent. I knew he considered me a friend, mainly because, despite having only known him for a week, I considered him a friend of mine too. But on a romantic level? I thought he might think I was pretty, at best. I never would have guessed it to be anything more than that. And if I _had _known, I would've never fed that fire. I would never lead a child on like that, honestly, I would never –"

"Stop right there, Princess, because that's exactly where you're wrong. Jonathan _isn't_ a child. Not anymore. No matter how much you or whoever else may think otherwise, he just…isn't. He's growing up. He's becoming a man. If this was last year, he would have come to me instantly…

"But I will say this to you, Blondie: That child bit wasn't the only part about your speech that was off. Despite what you think, I don't believe you to be a person who would intentionally hurt him or any other kid. Besides, you're missing the whole point to all of this. The raw truth of the matter? You're an adult. Jonathan, while maybe no longer a child, is still very young; a teenager. It's not your fault what happened, happened. You met someone. You got married. Such is life. You don't have to stand here and apologize for something you didn't do. All you have to do is leave me alone to enjoy my drink."

Captain Percival pretended not to notice the waitress' shocked expression. He couldn't exactly blame her. Except for his drunken state during his last visit, when were they ever truly nice to one another? But as the seconds ticked by, the young woman's shock morphed slowly into that of a grin, her blue eyes looking him over with mischievous affection.

"You know, you never said whether or not I was wrong about that whole mutual respect thing. Care to make a comment?"

"Nope."

Percival took another swig of rum as Elliot walked away grinning, pretending not to notice that either.

**-MV-**

Three mugs of rum later, the older man deemed it safe enough to go after Jonathan, deciding enough time had passed to check up on his favorite pupil. After "accidentally" forgetting to tell Baldy where he was going, Captain Percival exited the restaurant, glad he had stopped after three drinks. _Just enough not to feel awkward while still remaining coherent. _But as the seconds turned into minutes and the minutes turned into hours, the auburn haired pirate found himself completely sobered up, his worry over the disappearance of his son the only thing on his mind. Where the hell did he go! His first stop had been _the Sacred Heart,_ assuming the lad would have chosen the ship for its privacy, but no such luck. After that, he'd gone back to the restaurant to see if he returned. No sign of Jonathan yet again. His next idea had been to find Christopher, since maybe John _did_ return, but was off enjoying the festival with the surgeon. When he saw that not only Baldy was gone, but Carla too, he knew that, that wasn't the case… After that failed plan, he found himself visiting any shop he could think of that would attract the young teen's interest. He even went to that one little place where the kid had bought his late family jewelry, silently glad that the overly buyout keeper wasn't there.

Frantic, the pirate headed towards the farthest part of town; the part where hardly anyone ventured. Away from the lights, away from the crowds; the very last place one would ever expect Jonathan to be.

Yet there he was: legs dangling off of the dock, but not kicking happily like they normally would have, no. Just…dangling.

Carefully, the older man approached him, bypassing the abandoned hat and jacket. (Not a good sign). Seating himself down once he reached the edge of the dock, he joined the brunet in staring out at the water; the two of them quietly envious of how calm the ocean appeared. After several minutes of wondering who would speak first, Jonathan broke the silence.

"I'm selfish, aren't I?"

It was definitely not the first comment Percival was expecting to hear. "I'm sorry?" he asked in a rare bout of genuine confusion.

"I'm selfish. For the past eight weeks, we've been finding all of these towns destroyed. Hundreds of souls taken from this world; their homes having been stripped bare of all essentials, and here I am, crying over a girl. Selfish."

Percival didn't know what bothered him more. The fact that he never heard Jonathan sound so deadly serious, or the fact that he honestly, honestly thought – "You're not selfish, John. You just experienced what we all have, at one point or another, and you reacted as to be expected."

"'Expected?' Expected how? Because I'm an idiot kid or a selfish kid?"

"Hey," the Captain cut in sharply. "C'mon now, Newbie, you know just as well as I do that I didn't mean either of those things. For the record, I'm ra-_heely_ not a big fan of having words put into my mouth, but considering the circumstances, I'll let it slide. That being said, your reaction wasn't selfish _or _stupid. You never experienced that before; you never felt that rejection until a few hours ago. You reacted the way most people your age would have, and you know what? I'm proud of you for handling it the way you did."

The comment seemed to awaken him somewhat; the brunet ever eager for his Captain to be proud of him. Still… "I ran away and cried. How was that handling it?"

Percival grimaced; his reaction surprising him yet again. Honestly, he'd never seen the kid fall into a state of such self-loathing before. He knew it was the teen's hormones acting up, but it didn't make it any easier for him to witness the boy's obvious hurt. "No," he answered seriously. "For holding it together long enough to deal with it by yourself. Listen, Jonathan…I don't want to discourage you from…from coming to me with this stuff. From coming to anyone, for that matter; be it Baldy or Carla or whoever, but a part of growing up is knowing how to deal with these kinds of situations by yourself. Having the ability to stand on your own two feet is important, and you did that tonight. For that, I'm proud of you."

For the first time since removing himself from the bar, Jonathan looked up at his Captain; blue eyes filled with that hopeful light that had been lacking for too many hours; that light that made him, him. "Really?"

"Yeah, kid, really."

Silence lingered between them, though it was admittedly more comfortable than before. "Guess you must be serious," he finally answered, a ghost of a smile on his lips, "Since I know you wouldn't say something just to make someone feel better."

For a moment, Percival thought about saying how Jonathan wasn't just _someone; _that he was, for all intents and purposes, his son_._ Wondering if the confession would be misinterpreted as having made something up for the lad's benefit, the older man went with a casual response; one that was still undoubtedly true. "You damn well better believe it, kid."

Jonathan's smile grew at the comment, Percival's own grin evident in his tone.

Deeming it safe to finally standup, the older man cracked his neck before doing so, trying not to grin further as Jonathan followed suit.

"Are we spending the night at _the Sacred Heart_?" the brunet asked once they were both on their feet.

"Well, I was going to ask Carla if we could stay at her place, but I'm pretty sure her house is in full use right now, what with her and Turtle Head having suddenly disappeared from the bar."

The older man held back a chuckle as Jonathan turned scarlet; clearly not up for imagining such a scene. (If he even knew the full extent of what there was to imagine, then he'd _really _turn red…)

"C'mon, kid, let's head in. We have a busy day of investigating tomorrow, so venturing back to the ship will do us some good. I know it's been hard lately, given what we've seen, but I'm guessing that sleep tonight will come easy."

Jonathan nodded, knowing already that he'd be spending the night in his father's cabin.

**-MV-**

The next morning started off with the crew gathering at their favorite restaurant. Jonathan couldn't help but feel nervous as he stepped in, silently hoping that Elliot wouldn't be there. A part of him wanted to apologize for how he reacted to her news, while another part of him wanted to avoid her at all costs, his crush on her still painful to think about.

His concentration focused on happier thoughts as both Christopher and Carla walked into the eating establishment, hand in hand. Jonathan smiled at them instantly, but waited until the waitress turned away before giving his best friend a wink. Turk followed suit, his smile bigger than he'd seen in several months.

After the Captain filled them in on why it was they were there yet again, the crew of _the Sacred Heart _dispersed. Turk stayed behind for a little with the Captain, the two of them talking to Carla about anything she may have heard about "The Ghost Ship." Jonathan, however, decided to head out; not wanting to be there for whenever Elliot showed up.

The job was a lot harder than he imagined. For one thing, most of the pirates he'd gotten to actually talk to him were drunk off their ass. "Say wha' now? _Ghoooost_ Ship? Nope, nya-uh. Never 'eard of 'em. They a band?"

And the few pirates who _were _sober enough to talk to him, well… "The Ghost Ship… Yeah, I've heard about it, but hearing about it and talking about it are two entirely different things. Don't pull me into this, you hear?"

"I'm not pulling you into anything," Jonathan would plead, voice full of desperation. "I just want to know what you've heard. We just got back from five different towns that they pillaged, and all of the people there were dead. It's urgent that we get some new informa –"

"You're trying to get me involved with a ship that leaves entire towns _dead? _Leave me alone, boy. You shouldn't be interfering with things that aren't your business, anyway. If I were you, I'd enjoy the festivities while you're here. More importantly, I'd let _other _people enjoy the festivities while they're here. That ship or what it does is none of your concern."

By the end of the first hour, Jonathan was ready to scream, having gained no new information on how to go after the immensely feared vessel.

Already on the verge of a break down, he wasn't particularly happy about running straight into Elliot; the sudden impact having almost made him fall down.

"Jonathan! Oh, Jonathan… I'm sorry. I-I'm really sorry…"

The brunet turned scarlet, realizing at once that she wasn't just talking about their collision. "It's okay," he said more to the ground than to her. "It wasn't your fault. I just wasn't paying attention; I was lost in another one of my fantasies…"

The used-to-be-cabin boy looked up after realizing she was still staring at him, but by the time he did, she was already looking at something else; her gaze worried as she chewed on her bottom lip. Abandoning his own embarrassment, John asked her what was wrong.

"I was just on my way to work, but now… You know what? Let's go. I really don't think she'll mind."

Jonathan had no idea what she was talking about, but he let her grab his wrist all the same, pulling him to a part of town where he had yet to venture.

**-MV-**

Elliot's house was a small one, but it was that homey kind of small that made him feel comfortable. Being invited there was a little awkward at first, but even the scent of her home seemed to calm him, making him realize that the woman's invitation was more than just an apology, but a message: Elliot wasn't rejecting him, at least not from her life. They could never be a couple – something that, after last night, he understood with perfect clarity – but that didn't mean he had to lose her all together.

"I was on my way to tell Carla that I'm going to be a little late since Sean went out fishing for tonight's dinner, but I don't think she'll mind me explaining it to her later, seeing as how it's you."

John tried not to wince at the mention of Sean, though the comment made him wonder what exactly she was talking about. Why did she have to stay at home if Sean wasn't there?

"Take a seat!" she chirped amiably. "I'll be right back."

The brunet sat on her sofa, fingers grazing over the soft material, as he waited for the waitress to return. It wasn't long at all before she came back with a plate of warm biscuits; the lot of them coated in sugar.

"Want some?"

Jonathan didn't have to think twice. Eagerly, he reached out to take one, realizing at once why she was hired to work at a restaurant.

After they polished off the entire plate – something that, for one reason or another, Elliot looked really guilty about – the woman brought him over to a room he'd only visited in his fantasies.

Jonathan absolutely _loved_ to read, but books were just so expensive. His family never had any real reason to save up money for them either. Of course, it was the logical decision at the time, what with them already being short on money for food, but the truth was that, even if his family had been rich, they still wouldn't have used their money on books, since Jonathan was the only one among them who could read. It was a skill he learned from his late father. He'd teach him how during the few times in which he was actually around the house, but neither Dan or his mother had shown any interest in learning. After his father died, all of the stories told to him growing up were from Dan's memory, when he was in the mood to be a big brother, and tales he heard from sailors who made port there. Living with Captain Percival was the first time he was presented with an actual _book_-book; one that he could physically hold in his hands. And while the older man did have a pretty impressive selection – his books having been collected since before he was even born – most of them were related to medicine. Not that Jonathan wasn't interested in the topic, but sometimes, he craved a book that involved ghost tales or castles or treasures; a book that could take him away and into an entirely different world. So the idea of being in a room _full_ of books was something he'd only imagined.

Until now.

"Most of these are Sean's," Elliot admitted, "Though I've been slowly making my way through his collection ever since we got married."

Too distracted by the books that aligned the walls, Jonathan's pang of hurt over the mention of Sean didn't last as long as it did before, his question over her collection out weighing the mention of her marriage. "How did he _get _all of these? I mean, how could he afford them?"

"It was his profession before he took to the sea. In fact, it was only when he got his hands on a book of various 'sea monsters' did he decide to switch practices. Interesting, huh? Now…what one do you want?"

Jonathan turned to her, eyes wide and eager, as he did his best to form a coherent response. "I…really? But won't, I mean…won't he be upset?"

"No," she said with a smile. "What drew Sean to both selling and collecting these stories was his love for them. He sold them for very little as well, wanting to spread what made him happy to others. By allowing those less fortunate to get their hands on what was – and still is – so hard to afford, he was able to reach out to those that needed to get away from reality; if only for a little. It's one of the reasons why he has so many, actually, because if there were those who still couldn't afford his prices, he'd let them trade in their old books for his, or give him two of their old tales for a new one. So don't worry; he'd be happy to know you took one from his collection; to know it made you glad. Pick one, Jonathan. Anyone you want."

Jonathan's heart beat wildly as he scanned the many shelves of books; some old, some new, and some he never even heard of. He itched to read every one; to feel their leather bound spine against his hands.

That thought, of course, led to another thought; a book he'd been neglecting since _the Sacred Heart's _arrival.

The journal! He completely forgot about the journal!

Jonathan went from reading an entry every night (especially on the nights in which they found another town) to not having read it at all since the Captain's announcement; his thoughts having been distracted over the prospect of seeing Elliot again.

Shaking his head, Jonathan focused back in on the moment at hand. He knew this was a once in a life time opportunity, one that he couldn't reject. Having made his decision, the teen reached out towards a title that grabbed his attention; a book he had never heard of.

"That was the first one I read from here too!" Elliot commented. "The story of Moll Flanders."

"What's it about?" John asked curiously.

"Well, I won't tell you everything, since I don't want to spoil it for you, but through a series of unfortunate events, mainly some _really_ tattered relationships, Moll becomes a thief. She's caught and sent to jail, where she meets the love of her life; a man she both knew and loved before her life of thievery."

"Really? Wow… Do they get back together again?"

Elliot rolled her eyes playfully before nudging him with a grin. "I can't tell you that, silly! You'll have to read it to find out."

Jonathan smiled at the gesture, loving how comfortable he was already beginning to feel with her again. Something was notably different about the way he looked at her though; something good. This time, Elliot was more than just his crush, but a friend he could actually talk to; a friend he could come to without blushing the entire time. "Thank you, Elliot," he said genuinely. "I really can't wait to read this."

The waitress smiled warmly. "I'm glad."

The room having gone quiet, Jonathan couldn't help but jump at the sound of a sudden cry. "Oh, she's up!"

Following her footsteps, the brunet walked behind Elliot, curious as to who or what she was talking about. Before he knew it, he was in a small, pink tinted room. Lace curtains hung from the windows while hand painted flowers aligned the walls. A rocking chair sat in the corner, and a few feet away, a small chest of toys decorated the room as well. It was what stood in the center of the room that really grabbed his attention though.

John watched, clearly in awe, as Elliot walked over to the cream colored crib, picking up her child and rocking her gently back and forth. "You…you have a _baby?_"

Elliot winced, expecting the discovery to hurt him, but upon closer inspection, the brunet looked more awe struck than pained. In fact, the more she observed him, the more she couldn't help but think that his expression seemed somewhat enlightened; like the sight of her standing there, cradling her child, was something to be admired.

Unbeknownst to her, she was absolutely right.

Jonathan watched on, clearly taken by the scene he was witnessing, as a strand of blonde hair fell out of Elliot's bun, lightly grazing the cheek of her four month old daughter.

The image was absolutely beautiful.

"What's her name?" he whispered carefully.

Elliot smiled, and for the first time ever, the brunet realized that her smile was one of a very proud parent. "Abigail," she spoke lovingly. "Do you want to hold her?"

The teen's eyes popped, clearly not having expected such an offer to be made. "I, um…are you sure? I never held an infant before. I mean, I don't…I don't want to do anything to accidentally hurt her."

"You won't, Jonathan, don't worry. Here – take a seat and I'll hand her to you."

The used-to-be-cabin-boy nodded, heading over to the rocking chair to nervously sit himself down. He watched, still fairly mesmerized, as Elliot kissed the top of her young daughter's head. The gesture filled him with a warmth that he never felt before, but it didn't compare with the warmth he felt when the four month old baby was placed gently into his arms; Elliot smiling all the while.

He didn't notice her expression though, his attention now focused solely on the child. He'd never been this close to an infant before; had never held one in his life. That in and of itself would've been an experience to remember, but this wasn't just _any_ newborn baby. This was _Elliot's _newborn baby.

Big, blue eyes stared up and into his own; puffs of curly, blonde hair framing her chubby, little cheeks. Jonathan couldn't help the smile that took over his expression, but when baby Abigail smiled right back, the brunet audibly gasped; not having expected her reaction in the slightest.

"She's a happy little thing," Elliot commented softly. "Do you want to try something?"

Jonathan nodded quietly, afraid of speaking too loudly and startling the young girl in his arms.

"Hold out your index finger and gently touch her hand."

The brunet did as instructed, curious, so when Abigail reached out and grasped his outstretched finger, Jonathan just couldn't help but react. "She's so strong!"

The baby kicked her legs happily, as if sensing he was impressed, while Elliot simply chuckled. "She is, isn't she? She's going to be quite the fighter one day." The waitress suddenly paused, and if John had been watching her, it would have been apparent that she was struggling over what to say next; or rather, if she should even say it at all. Hesitantly, Elliot continued with her statement, the usual bounce in her voice replaced with undeniable sincerity. "But maybe…maybe, if she's really lucky, she won't have to fight by herself…"

Jonathan didn't know what to make of Elliot's last comment, so instead, he continued to stare at Abigail; the warmth in his stomach radiating as she fell back to sleep in his arms.

_**A/N:**__ I know this chapter's a bit shorter than my others and probably feels more like a filler, but it's actually very important. Anyway, just in case anybody didn't piece it together, the reason Elliot had to stay at her house until Sean got back was so that Abigail wouldn't be alone. While Elliot works, Sean stays with the baby, but when he's out at sea again, Elliot gets time off unless she can get someone to watch their daughter, allowing her to work more. Sean's fishing expedition was decided on the spur of the moment, which is why she had to go tell Carla she'd be late, since she didn't know he'd be going the night before. Kind of random, I know, but I thought I'd clear that up just in case anybody thought she was being a bad mom. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and are being blessed with better weather than I am. lol Until next time!_


	8. Chapter VIII

_**A/N: **__Ugh, how do I even begin this one? I know I've said I might be late with updates before, but this time I actually was. And yeah, I know it's not the end of the world, but when I say that my goal is to post every Friday, I mean it. That being said, please allow me to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Truth be told, I could've had it up here on Friday, but it would have been rushed, sloppy, and really lacking in quality. I'm sincere when I say I aim to post every week, but at the same time, I don't want to update a story_ just_ because it's Friday; not if it means posting a little later will positively affect the chapter. (At least I hope so, anyway). Now that I've bored you to death with my apology, let me just take a moment to say thank you to all of you who have been reading and/or reviewing this story. I appreciate it full heartedly, which is why I'm going to shut up now so you guys can actually read the chapter. lol Enjoy._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter VIII:**

"_And when I wake tomorrow I'll bet that you and I will walk together again. I can tell that we are gonna be friends, yes I can tell that we are gonna be friends."_

_-We're Going to be Friends, by the White Stripes-_

After baby Abigail fell back to sleep, Elliot had taken her from him with a smile, placing her back in the crib and inviting Jonathan to stay with her until Sean came back. As much as the brunet enjoyed his time with her, he knew as well as the rest of _the Sacred Heart_ that there was an important job to be done. After all, he only spent an hour or so talking to random pirates and investigating the whereabouts of "The Ghost Ship." Homemade biscuits were a welcomed break, but it was time to get back to work.

Waving goodbye, Jonathan exited the house and made his way towards the streets of drunken sea lovers. It wasn't until he was slammed into by one of said drunkards, the impact making him drop his book from Elliot, did he decide to stop by his favorite vessel first, just to drop it off.

By now, he really should have known better.

Making his way down towards their sleeping corridors, Jonathan realized before even reaching his hammock that there was only one place to put it. After having just remembered that he hadn't read the journal for weeks, how could he open the compartment and _not _take a look?

Quickly stashing away the story of "Moll Flanders," Jonathan removed the journal as he settled back into his hammock, realizing at once how much he missed the feel of its leather bound pages.

During the weeks in which _the Sacred Heart_ came upon deceased town after deceased town, Jonathan had stayed up late into the evening, just to read more journal entries. Sometimes, when the Captain was out searching with Shilling Guy, the brunet would sneak down to the compartment, just to get away from _his _reality – the reality of never ending death – and into the life of another.

It was weird, he realized, feeling so close to an individual whose face and name he didn't even know; whose face and name he'd _never_ know, but he could no longer deny how connected he felt to the man in the journal. Not so much in that they experienced the same things, but he definitely felt a connection to the author himself. Granted, the journalist hadn't exactly _planned_ for his private thoughts to serve as comfort for a stranger, but the more Jonathan read, the more Jonathan realized:

Whoever this person was, he couldn't help but seriously consider him his friend.

Of course, like most friendships, all of their "interactions" didn't necessarily mean that something new and dramatic was going to be shared between them. Over the past several weeks, nothing out of the ordinary had taken place in the author's life since his decision to open up shop. All of the entries he read so far consisted of how business was going (the man, he realized upon reading further, was a painter. This, of course, had only managed to make him sad, wishing that Ben could've been around to read the journal too) the family he was obviously very close to (those entries always varied from amused to concerned) and his encouraging musings on life.

Eager for what was to come next, Jonathan opened the journal, not expecting anything out of the ordinary, but excited all the same.

_December 1__st__, 1709_

_ I might be in trouble._

The brunet couldn't help the twist his stomach gave upon reading those five little words. The author never started an entry like that before, and coming from what he gathered to be a very optimistic man, it was definitely a little more than concerning.

_The Governor came by my shop today. At first, I was pretty excited. I never thought my place would attract that kind of customer. Actually, to be perfectly honest, I never even _attempted _to attract that kind of customer. I guess I've never really been drawn to the idea of living that lifestyle. From what I've gathered, their idea of fun means throwing on a powdered wig and pirouetting in circles, while their expressions remain unmoving; grim. I don't know. I hate coming off as judgmental, but something about the way they move, even on a day to day basis, just seems so…fake. The people who strive to be them…I have to wonder if they look at life through a mask of material. I mean, I will admit – the lot of them are insanely rich, but none of them ever seem _happy_ to me. Jewels and silks are nice and all, but they won't do jack if you're not happy. I guess I'm losing track of my original reason for writing again, huh? Alright, back to why I'm in trouble:_

_ I was surprised to see the Governor come in, simply in that I didn't know what about my place would have attracted him, but I wasn't about to complain. After all, I'd never met the man myself. Who was I to judge?_

_ After welcoming him to my shop, he gave the place a quick once over, his nose crinkling the whole time. He didn't seem to notice me until we actually made eye contact. Just like that, he was all smiles, but even that struck me as fake._

_ Almost instantly, he went into what it was he was looking for. Like most of my customers lately, he was there to order a Christmas present. (I've been getting more customers since November hit, since those who like my work are trying to leave me with enough time to complete their orders before the 25__th__, God bless 'em). Anyway, his request for a Christmas gift didn't strike me as weird. What made it weird was that he was there to order it for _himself._ "I've worked hard this year, so surely I deserve a good pat on the shoulder, wouldn't you agree?" I know he's the Governor, but when he said that, my mouth almost dropped. We live in a small town, and yet this was the first time I was seeing him. I have great respect for those who look out for this place, I do, but that's just it – you have to give respect to earn it, and I had no idea (still don't) what this man ever did to earn our respect. I couldn't bring myself to agree with him, despite how much he obviously respected himself, but I wasn't going to sit there and jump down the guy's throat either. After all, maybe he was just a lonely guy who needed a pick-me-up. Maybe he had no one to do that kind of thing for him – no family, no friends – so he resorted to buying gifts for himself. Really, what did I know? So even though I couldn't agree with him, I smiled and asked how I could go about making that happen. It seemed to be the right thing to say, since he pressed on without so much as an irritated twitch. "I'd like to order a portrait; one that really captures my essence. You'll have to forgo your other orders though, if you are to get mine done on time for Christmas, but I doubt you have too much on your plate anyway. So, if you could bring your…'equipment,' over to my establishment tomorrow, I'll pay you half of what I'm willing to spend before you even begin, and then the second half once you're done. Dare I say it, but I can't imagine someone of your stature receiving a better offer than that. One half of my payment will be more than what you make in given week, rest assured. And once word spreads that you've made a portrait for _me, _well…I'm sure this business of yours will grow."_

_ I know I should've been mad, but believe it or not, I was more or less amused. It was pretty obvious he had no idea what it was I did (besides paint, anyway). And did he really expect me to forgo all of the customers who placed their orders at least one month prior to his? I didn't say that though. I'm not one to start a fight (though that doesn't mean that I _won't _if there is one) so I just explained to him that I don't do portraits like that. I filled him in on what it is my shop's actually about, and offered him a painting that would still center around him while coinciding with what it is I do. I honestly thought it'd go over well. Worst case scenario being that he loses interest and I lose a customer, which obviously wasn't sounding that bad to me, at the time. But instead of reacting like one would expect a man of authority to react, he responded by literally stomping his foot into the ground. Even now, I still can't believe how red he turned. _

_ "I will not tolerate this! Being dismissed by a…by a…by a dimwitted artist!"_

_ I was surprised, to say the least, but the dimwitted remark got me thinking more than it got me raging: Why is it that people who think those are funny also believe them to be irrevocably stupid? When did having the ability to laugh automatically come with a lack of intelligence? _

_ He stormed out of my shop in a huff, and for a moment, I just found myself staring at the door, having not been given the chance to respond. After just a few seconds though, I shook it off. Okay, it definitely could have gone better, but it wasn't the end of the world._

_ I only started worrying when four of my usual customers came over, canceling their orders only hours after the Governor's mini-meltdown._

_ I hope I'm not coming off as paranoid here, but is the Governor forcing them to cancel? In the few short hours that he left my shop, had he taken to wishing ill will against me by telling others that I was not the right artist to come to? I'd like to hope not, but I can't say that I'm completely convinced otherwise. _

_ It is a little odd though… I'm not really concerned as far as my name's sake goes. I know that those who know me – especially those two – won't be fazed by those rumors in the least. I'm not even worried about making money, since I have other skills I can use. It's the thought of not being able to paint as much that bothers me. Closing shop means that I'd have less time to do what it is I love. I painted long before I turned it into a practice, but now that it's my form of income, it gives me more of a reason to do it every day. Not just that, but it allows me to spread what I love to others; to maybe make them a bit happier than they were beforehand. If the Governor costs me my customers, if the Governor shuts down my business, time for painting will be limited. Big time._

_ Ah, we'll see. It could just be me being paranoid. Granted, I don't get paranoid often, but there's no need to worry over it either. At least not yet._

Jonathan stared at the entry, eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement. Every night before putting the journal back into its compartment, the brunet had taken to marking his place by folding the edge of the page. December 1st, 1709 was the last page folded, but then why did the man's story sound so bloody familiar? Curiously, the brunet turned back to the previous entry, wondering if he just marked the wrong one.

_November 23__rd__, 1709_

_ Our favorite baby started crawling today. I can't believe I was there to witness it, and not just the tyke's latest accomplishment, but his father's reaction as well. I've known that man for years now and today was the first time I ever saw him tear up. He completely denied it of course; turned away like the action would somehow wipe the memory from my brain. Nope, sorry. I'm holding onto this one. Not out of malice or anything. It was just nice to see him not care so much about being in a vulnerable position, even if the moment lasted for a mere two seconds. I wonder if she and I are the only people whose seen him like that before. Probably. Makes me kind of sad, actually, when I think of how long he went with no one to trust, but at the same time, I'm kind of flattered that I'm one of the people he does. Hope that doesn't make me a selfish friend._

No, that was definitely the last entry he read, which meant that the entry he just got finished reading was a new one.

So then why did it sound so familiar?

Jonathan chewed nervously at the bottom of his lip. He knew damn well he was supposed to be outside in search of those who knew something about "The Ghost Ship," but how was he honestly expected to get anything done after reading an entry like that? Driven by un-crushable curiosity, the used-to-be-cabin-boy continued.

_December 2__nd__, 1709_

_ Well, turns out I'm not paranoid. The Governor really was slandering my name. I guess I should be angrier, but after the four who cancelled yesterday, only two more stepped down from their orders. Other than that, the customers I have are sticking with me. I doubt after what happened, I'll be getting any more customers other than those who I have now, but at least I don't have to stop painting. _

_ As for you-know-who, well…I haven't seen him that angry in a _long _time. Something about me having to calm him down when I was the one who got ripped apart made me laugh. Honestly, after seeing his reaction, I was more concerned for him than I was for me. He was about ready to go barging into the Governor's place to tear that man a new one. I appreciate it, to a certain extent, but when I thought about it logically, I just couldn't let him do it. Here's the thing: If he goes charging in there, there's a high possibility that he'll be taken away from his practice, which would negatively affect the town in its entirety. If I_ _lost _my_ job, no one would be affected. Well, at least not in such a scarring way. If he loses _his _job though, people are going to suffer. I can't have that, and while he might rant and rave, I know he can't have that either. _

_Fortunately, he actually listens to me. After a few beers and a couple of laughs at the Governor's expense, he finally gave it a rest. _

_You know, I talk a lot about being the guy's only friend, but – while more people may gravitate towards me than they do to him – I never had someone who I opened up to either. The more I think about past friendships, the more I realize how much of an illusion they were. Sure, I was great at making whoever laugh, simply due to my oddity, but beyond that, there was nothing. Maybe it's because we're polar opposites, I don't know, but even before he went ahead and married my favorite little she-devil, we always just sort of clicked. _

Jonathan didn't know what to feel after reading the journal's latest entry. Anger towards the blubbering Governor? Relief that the artist was able to keep painting? Joy at the thought of the author's unwavering friendship between him and the other man?

Shaking his head, John put the journal back into its compartment. It'd been almost two hours since he last took to the streets, and it was time to get back to work.

**-MV-**

Much like how his day first started off, the young brunet wasn't getting anywhere in the crowded streets of pirates. His search went something like this: Drunken pirate who knew nothing, drunken pirate who knew nothing and looked like he was about to throw up, drunken pirate whose speech he couldn't even understand, _sober _pirate who completely blanched at the words "Ghost Ship" before running away, followed quickly by another drunken pirate.

Jonathan tugged at his hair, wondering if the rest of _the Sacred Heart _was having better luck than he was. He'd already ran into Turk earlier, who informed him that they were all meeting at their favorite restaurant to talk about what new information they managed to gather. When John had asked him what it was he'd learned, the older pirate pointed to a splotchy stain near the shoulder of his shirt, which had already turned into crust.

Apparently, Christopher had come across one of those pirates that looked about ready to hurl, except, unlike Jonathan, he hadn't gotten away on time.

Now, three hours after having started his search yet again, Jonathan trudged along the streets of his favorite town, head hanging low as he stared at the graveled road beneath him.

_Mi_stake.

The impact of the collision sent Jonathan landing flat on his butt. Trying not to openly wince at the pain of having his backside meet the ground, the brunet didn't notice the stream of blood pouring from his nose.

Until, that is, it was brought to his attention.

"You're bleeding! God, I'm sorry, kid. Let me help you, okay?"

Jonathan barely had time to make eye contact with the person who had sent him spiraling, but he couldn't help but wonder how old he was. He called him a kid, but he didn't sound too much older than he was.

Okay, well…maybe a little bit, but not enough to call him a kid, right?

Too startled to put up a fight, Jonathan let whoever it was hoist him to his feet and drag him over to where it was less crowded, pressing a cloth to his nose as he forced his head up.

"Pinch as hard as you can, alright? It should stop bleeding within the next five minutes. I'll stay with you until then though, just in case."

"Thank you," John managed through the material, not enjoying the nasally voice that escaped him.

"I really am sorry," the stranger repeated after a moment's silence. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Neither was I," the brunet answered with a laugh.

The other boy laughed too, and Jonathan couldn't help but notice how comfortable he felt around him; how natural it seemed to be in this person's company.

Weird, for someone he'd yet to make eye contact with.

As if on cue, the stranger beside him reached over, pulling the now bloody cloth away to take a look at the remaining damage. "Seems the flow's stopped," he remarked casually. "How's it feel?"

John, who had been getting ready to answer, couldn't help but pause before doing so, taking in the sight of the person who had both caused and healed his injury.

While he too was clearly a teenager, he was definitely an _older _teenager. Eighteen; nineteen, even. No wonder he fell from the impact of their collision. The guy was solid;like he'd been working out from the moment he left his mother's womb. Were muscles a natural gift for him? He wasn't bulging with them though. John would describe him as lean rather than built, but either way, he was obviously someone _not _to mess with.

Of course, that was how the stranger carried himself. His expression, on the other hand…

Bright, blue eyes stared back at him, while blonde hair framed his face like a lion's mane. It was wavy, but not curly; messy, but not ratty. His smile brought out dimples that spoke volumes; his expression not at all matching the body below his shoulders.

For someone who looked like he could kill a wolverine with his bare hands, he couldn't help but notice how genuinely _kind _he seemed.

John stared up at him, notably shorter than the stranger who had caused him to bleed. He'd been proud of the muscle he gained since joining _the Sacred Heart, _but next to this guy, he couldn't help but feel a little self conscious.

A sudden snap of the fingers brought him back to attention. Jonathan blinked, not having expected the gesture at all.

"You okay there?" the blonde asked with a grin.

"Um, yeah…i-it's fine. My nose, I mean."

The stranger nodded. "Well that's good. Still, I feel kind of guilty. Can I get you something? A drink maybe?"

Jonathan opened his mouth to say no, until a loud, intrusive growl escaped his abdomen, making him blush in the process.

The lion boy smiled. "Should probably take care of that hunger first, huh? Well, food it is then."

**-MV-**

The feeling of warmth and hospitality that accompanied Carla's restaurant didn't come close to the place they sat in now, but for whatever it was lacking in comfort, the boy before him certainly made up for with his attitude.

"So what'll it be? I'm buying."

JD shifted awkwardly, not quite knowing how to respond to this stranger's act of kindness. "I, um…what's cheapest?"

The blonde rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on…just let me treat you. I feel really bad. Alright, think of it this way: Letting me buy you something makes _me _feel better, so it's not just for you. Sound good?"

Jonathan smiled weakly, still fairly amazed at how natural it felt to be interacting with the person right across from him. "Okay... Chicken legs, then?"

The blonde headed stranger grinned. "Really? I was planning on getting those too."

After ordering their food, the lion boy dived right into conversation, throwing his hands behind his head and leaning against the supporting bench. "Okay, so…first things first. It might be a stupid question, given this town's current atmosphere, but I have to ask: What flag do you sail under?"

"The Jolly Roger," John answered immediately.

"Thought so," he added with a grin, nodding towards the boy's tricorn hat and sword. "You're pretty young though, so I just wanted to make sure."

Jonathan frowned, not quite understanding what being young had to do with it. "Are pirates usually older than me? I mean, I know the crew I'm a part of is, but I was even younger when I first got into piracy."

"Oh yeah? How old were you?"

"Eleven."

The boy's eyes immediately bugged; as if Jonathan's response was an answer to a riddle he didn't even know existed. "'_Eleven?'_ God, that's how old I thought you were _now. _How old are you currently then?"

"Thirteen," the brunet answered quietly, regretting having brought up his age.

"What!"

Jonathan ducked down on his side of the table, face turning scarlet as the teen across from him stared.

"Geez, here I was thinking I accidentally beat up a little kid. You're only three years younger than me!"

Jonathan, who had been getting ready to ask if he would have cared as much had he been younger, stopped himself from continuing when the stranger's words really sunk in. "Wait…you're only _three years_ older than me?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm sixteen."

This time, it was John's turn to look surprised, though instead of turning scarlet, the boy in front of him just laughed. "I get this a lot," he responded through his chuckles. "So tell me: how old did you think I was?"

"I thought you were eighteen," the used-to-be-cabin-boy confessed. "Nineteen, tops."

"Seems you and I have the same problem. Just…opposite."

Jonathan joined him in his laughter, the similarity between them making him grin. Still, something was bothering him…

"If you knew I was thirteen when you ran into me, would you have stayed?"

Not having expected the question, the lion-esque teen leaned back into his seat, staring up at the ceiling in casual contemplation. "Would I have stayed? Yeah, definitely. Maybe I wouldn't have been as worried, but I still would have stayed."

Jonathan nodded, relieved by the stranger's response. Why it even mattered as to whether or not this person would've helped him made no sense, but for some reason, he couldn't help but care.

"Besides," the sixteen year old added, "Even knowing how old you are now, you're still _technically _a kid; at least compared to me."

Jonathan frowned (or rather, pouted) at the stranger's friendly teasing. Something about the guy made him think of his late brother Dan, accept without the added beating.

Food having arrived at their table, the two boys immediately dug into their meals, neither of them having realized just how hungry they were. As Jonathan ate, he couldn't help but reflect on the company before him. He loved each and every person on _the Sacred Heart_ like he'd been a part of their family his entire life (yes, even Shilling Guy) but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he never had a friend that was actually his age. Or, well, close to it, anyway. It was kind of nice being with someone who could relate to him in terms of how old they were.

Finally done with their meals, the blonde headed pirate reached into his pocket. The brunet couldn't help but notice the way his body froze a mere moment after doing so, as if something had gone terribly awry. "Are you alright?" he asked carefully.

The boy in front of him looked around nervously before quietly answering the younger teen's question. "You wouldn't have noticed a pouch somewhere, would you? Maybe on the way in or something? It's dark red with gold trimming; about as big as my hand."

Jonathan shook his head no, a small frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. "No, I'm sorry. Can I ask why?"

"Because that's where I keep my money, and, well…I kind of lost it."

The brunet's eyes instantly filled with worry, not quite knowing how to react to their current situation. Normally, he would've offered to pay for their meals, but all of his money was back on _the Sacred Heart._

"Okay, I hate doing this here, what with this being such a pirate friendly port and all, but it's time we make a break for it."

"Huh?"

The blonde just rolled his eyes. "I mean we gotta run, little buddy."

Confused by the boy's sudden change in demeanor, Jonathan watched as his eyes morphed from rattled to slightly mischievous.

"Okay, you see that waitress over there? The minute she turns her head, we need to make a break for it. On the count of three; you ready?"

Jonathan felt his stomach twist with worry, not having expected this outcome at all. Having lived several years as a pirate, stealing wasn't anything new, even if most of _the Sacred Heart's _findings came from crooks or treasures that were claimed by none other than sand or years of abandonment. This was different though. Stealing from a port that actually supported their lot? Granted, the teen before him didn't seem particularly fond of the idea either, as was evident by the look in his eyes, but still…

"Okay, let's get going: One."

"Listen, I –"

"Two."

"Wait a minute, I think we really just need to –"

"THREE!"

Without thinking, Jonathan shot up from the table, sprinting for the door and following the older teen's footsteps. Into the crowds of drunken pirates they ran, faster and faster, until they were sure no one had followed. For as guilty as the young brunet felt, he couldn't deny the adrenaline rush that coursed through his veins as they maneuvered through the crowd, searching for a moment in which they could finally stop and breathe.

The moment came soon enough as the two of them came across a small dock, using their knees as a resting place for their hands. Bending over and breathing hard, neither of them could stop the bursts of laughter that escaped them upon realizing that they had made it out unscathed.

"Nicely done," the lion boy panted. "I wasn't sure you had it in ya'. Hate to say it, but stealing's really not so bad, once you get used to it. I mean, you're a pirate: you know how it is, but what I'm saying is that pillaging is a lot less harmful than most crimes out there, you know? The Navy gets their pants in a twist over something as frivolous as stealing, when the truth is, people are out there dying because of_ their_ inability to stop far worse crimes than that. Crimes that should never go unpunished."

While he couldn't help but disagree with his take on what stealing could lead to, what with having just witnessed a multitude of desolate towns because of it, the image of those abandoned people was what made him agree with him in terms of the Navy's incompetence, what with Captain Percival having explained to them _why_, exactly, those towns had been left for dead…

Still, Jonathan couldn't help the curiosity that swelled beneath his chest at the boy's latest comment. "'Crimes that should never go unpunished?' What kind of crimes?"

Having finally gained control of his breathing, the older teen straightened up, but not before giving him an "Are you kidding me?" look. "Murder, of course! What did you think I meant?"

Jonathan blushed, realizing how obvious the answer should have been. "Good point…"

Noticing his look of embarrassment, the older teen reached over to ruffle the brunet's shaggy hair. Usually, the young pirate _hated _when anyone other than Percival did that, but for some reason, he didn't feel uncomfortable when his new friend mirrored the gesture.

"Don't beat yourself up," he commented amiably. "I'm just glad you agree."

Jonathan swallowed. While he agreed that killing someone was beyond awful, he still couldn't agree to the idea of waving a dismissive hand towards pillaging; not after all the towns they just came across… Still, if this guy was as disgusted with murder as he was, then maybe he'd be more inclined to help him with his search for "The Ghost Ship."

"Hey, um…can I ask you about something?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"I just… The reason I was out walking today, when you first ran into me, I mean, was because –"

Jonathan jumped at the sudden sound of bells; their call stretching across from wherever they came from and into the ears of the two young pirates. When the brunet turned to ask where he thought the sound came from, he was surprised to see how alert the boy appeared; how serious he looked.

"I have to go," he stated bluntly.

"Go? Go where?"

"Home," he answered again, but this time, he didn't seem as grim. This time, he said it with a smile, even if it did strike Jonathan as a little sad.

"Okay… Well, if you want to meet up somewhere tomorrow –"

The blonde shook his head quietly, that same sad smile from before still gracing the corner of his lips. "I won't be able to stay for the rest of the festival. The sun's setting, which means by the time I get home, it'll be dark."

"So?" Jonathan asked automatically, his tone coming off as concerned rather than demanding.

"So that means we're leaving. It was nice meeting you, uh…"

The brunet's eyes bugged, realizing then and there that they never actually introduced themselves. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Jonathan. Jonathan Michael Dorian."

The blonde reached over and shook his hand, smiling as he did so. "Jonathan. You take care of yourself, okay? No more getting bloody noses now."

Giving the boy a friendly little salute, the blonde made to depart, walking towards wherever the bells had sounded from.

"Hey, wait a minute!" John called after him, not quite understanding why he felt so panicked. "You never told me your name, remember?"

Already a good ten feet away, the teen turned around with a sheepish grin, clearly embarrassed by his own blunder. "Oh, right. Sorry about that. I'm not really used to meeting new people, you know? My name's Jack. Jack Sullivan."

_**A/N:**__ The last scene of this chapter was the first scene that popped into my head for this story. Thankfully, I've had it in mind since "My Captain," which allowed me to leave the necessary holes when writing it. Things are definitely going to start picking up from here, just so long as I'm able to execute it alright. -knock on wood- As for the journal, well, yeah…is it really a secret anymore? Hahaha, only to Jonathan, I suppose. ;) (Which __**-spoiler alert-**__ won't last for very long). Anyway, guys, I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Until next time!_


	9. Chapter IX

_**A/N – Please read for information concerning next week's update: **__Second week in a row now, I know, but at least I'm posting on Saturday instead of Sunday, right? Ugh, I'm sorry you guys. I won't get into all of the boring details here, but I've been kind of frazzled lately... I would love to follow that apology with good news concerning this story, but I'm going on summer vacation this Sunday and won't be back till the 2__nd__. (I'm going to NYC to see Zach Braff in the play, "Trust" on the 29__th__. Very excited!) However, the train ride up there is a good seven hours long, so I'm going to be using that time to my advantage to work on this story. Sound good? That being said, please allow me to apologize for yet another late update and thank you for all of the feedback so far; something that I always appreciate. I'm hoping that, by the time I come back, I will once again be on my A Game._

_On a note pertaining to the content of the story itself, a lot of people were wondering how Jonathan would react after hearing Jack's name in the last chapter. A good question, no doubt, but keep in mind that Percival has only referred to his son as just that. Whenever he talked to JD about his family, he always referred to them as his son or his ex-wife, but he never actually said their names._

_Anyway, it's about time I shut up and leave you alone to read the chapter. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter IX: **

_"Well, a son's gonna rise in a mile. In a mile you'll be feeling fine. In a mile you will see, after me, you'll be out of the dark, yeah, you'll get your shot."_

_-Son's Gonna Rise, by Citizen Cope-_

After waving another goodbye to Jack, Jonathan ran towards Carla's restaurant. He was already full from the meal he had, well, stolen, but Turk had told him earlier that they were meeting around nightfall to exchange information on what they had managed to find. Besides, hungry or not, the brunet was looking forward to seeing his favorite crewmen again, especially Captain Percival.

Upon arriving at his favorite eating establishment, it didn't take a long time at all to find the rest of the crew. They were gathered around the bar, drinking and eating amiably.

"Where have you been?"

Startled, John turned towards the voice of his father, not quite sure if he was mad or just curious.

"I met a new friend today," he answered quietly. "He took me to this place across town for food, but then he had to go."

"Baldy was _supposed _to give you an exact time for meeting here, but I guess that's not your fault now, is it?"

"Well, he did say around dinner time…"

"Like I said, not your fault." Percival stopped to give Christopher an irritated look, but said surgeon was too busy gushing over Carla to notice. Still annoyed, the older man rolled his eyes before turning back to his son. "Well, grab a seat and sit down. We've been waiting for you."

It was only then that John noticed how the rest of _the Sacred Heart_ was already there. "You really waited for me?"

The older man rolled his eyes. "C'mon, kid, really? After all this time, do you really think we wouldn't wait for you?"

John looked back at the bar, its occupants consisting solely of those from his favorite vessel. As much as the crew accepted him, as much as the crew really loved him, there were times where the teen still thought of himself as less _important_; like he was the most affordable crewman to lose.

But Captain Percival would never let that happen, right?

"I guess I'm just being paranoid…"

The older man's eyebrows came together in puzzlement, not quite understanding where the lad's train of thought had been going. Shaking his head, the auburn haired pirate jerked a thumb towards two empty barstools; one for him and one for Jonathan.

Smiling, John followed his father towards where they all sat, but not before waving a friendly hello to his favorite, blue eyed waitress.

"Alright, ladies," the Captain started up instantly, pulling the brunet away from his Elliot-centric musings. "One of you lucky bastards better have some good news here, because today was just see-_hoe _not my day."

The crew looked up at their leader, startled. If Captain Percival – one of the most respected pirates to ever sail the seas – could not get any new information on The Ghost Ship, then how were _they _supposed to get new information?

"Well?" the older man pressed, clearly not in the mood for walking on egg shells.

The crew of _the Sacred Heart _looked down into their plates of food, too ashamed to meet their leader's eyes. Expecting a rant that could scare a leviathan, John was surprised when his father's reaction was to merely pinch the bridge of his nose; a small, almost inaudible sigh escaping him. "Can't say I'm surprised, and for once, it's not because of your incompetence."

Despite the situation, Jonathan just couldn't help but smile; the Captain's ability to hide compliments in insults never ceasing to amaze him.

"Still, that's no excuse. We need to figure out how to work around these drunken sea rats before the end of the week. If we're surrounded by pirates for an entire seven days and _still_ manage to leave this place empty handed, then I really have no idea how we're supposed to go about –"

Whether he liked it or not, the Captain never got to finish his sentence. All heads turned towards the front of the restaurant as the doors flew open in a rush, the man in its frame staring at them all with undeniable anxiety. "_Help!"_ The cry flew out of him, desperate and pained, before the stranger's knees gave way, causing him to collapse on the floor with a loud and ear shattering _thud._

Sober and drunken alike, pirates all around gathered near their fallen foe. It was clear at first glance that the man was, in fact, _not _a pirate, but if the condition of said man was anything to go by, now was not the time for fear induced assumptions.

Of course, no one fought against Doctor Percival when he pushed his way through the crowd, demanding that they clear out so the poor bastard could breathe. Silently, the restaurant watched on as the physician checked his pulse, waving over various crewmembers of _the Sacred Heart _for assistance.

"He's definitely malnourished," Todd noted at once, all idiocy gone from him in a flash.

"And God, he _reeks,_" Lonnie muttered, turning his head away from him.

"Looks like he hasn't bathed in weeks; hasn't _eaten _in weeks. Damn it all, this guy's gonna need a lot more than just your every day patch up. Turtle Head! Big Guy! Help me move him to the back. You still have a cot in there, right Carla?"

The Latina waitress nodded hurriedly, already making her way towards the back room and opening the door for the lot of them.

Jonathan watched on, heart pounding, as he followed the injured man and his caretakers into the back room, where a few other pirates were sleeping off a series of drinks.

Gingerly, the crewmen placed their patient on the bed. Without thinking twice, Jonathan ran out and into the kitchen, grabbing the nearest bowl and filling it with warm water. Acting solely on instinct, he was sure to grab a cup of water and a bowl of fresh broth, just in case the man needed some for whenever he woke up. Grabbing one of the trays he'd seen both Elliot and Carla use several times before, the brunet headed towards the back room, but not before snagging a fresh, clean towel.

Upon noticing what he had brought, the older man's eyes grazed over his son, as if something he'd done had caused a spark of familiarity to burst beneath his gaze. Jonathan swallowed. Did he do something wrong? The look he was giving him was almost…_sad._

Not quite knowing what to say in response, John straightened his shoulders, allowing himself to slip into doctor mode. "Warm water and towels for his wounds, Captain. The glass is for when he wakes, as is the bowl of broth. For his malnourishment, of course."

When Percival's reaction was small, bittersweet grin, Jonathan couldn't help but feel confused. "Captain…? Did I…did I do something wrong? I know you usually tell me what to get first, but –"

"No," he replied instantly. "No, you did everything right. You even got what I wasn't going to ask of you. The broth and the water… It just reminded me of when –"

Unintentionally interrupting him for yet a _second _time, the man jerked awake with a gasp; wide, red shot eyes scanning both the room and the people before him. "What! I…I… My village! My people! Oh, God, where - ?"

"Relax now," the Captain cut in evenly; using the tone he saved only for Jonathan and various patients. "You're okay here. You're safe."

Still undeniably frantic, the battered man took another look at those who surrounded him. Unlike the first time Jonathan woke up to find Percival taking care of him, it didn't take the stranger too long to figure out who they were. "Y-You're pirates! Bloody, throat cutting pirates!"

Clearly doing his best to keep calm, the physician breathed in quietly through his nose. "Yes," he answered clearly. "And no. We are, as you said, pirates, but we are _not, _as you also claimed, cutthroats. Where you come from, I don't know, but where you are _now?_ You are in the last remaining port that not only serves our kind, but welcomes us. Whatever you may think of our lot, well…by the looks of you, I can't say I blame ya', but the truth of the matter is this: Not every pirate out there is dictated by cruelty. That being said, I would highly advise you to let us help, since I'm not only a damn good pirate, but a damngood physician as well."

The man blinked at him, dumbfounded, and John couldn't help but wonder if he was too dazed to take in the Captain's latest rant. "A physician…?" he finally asked.

Percival just nodded.

"The only pirate I know of who used to be a physician is Captain Percival. Are you…are you him?"

Jonathan tried not to chuckle as that familiar, cocky grin spread over his Captain's face. After the frustrating day he just went through, he knew how much he must have appreciated being heard of; his ego inflating even more so than usual. "You better believe it," he finally answered.

"Oh, thank _God._ Listen, forget about me. Forget about my wounds. There are more important matters to attend to; more important _people._ I'm not sure if you've heard the rumors, but tell me: How much do you know of 'The Ghost Ship?'"

**-MV-**

Saying goodbye had been hard. _Real _hard.

Jonathan had never seen Christopher look as heartbroken as he did when he had to say farewell to Carla yet again, neither of them sure as to when they'd see each other next. He himself had teared up upon hugging both Elliot and Carla goodbye, but had refused to let them fall.

Even the Captain, as determined as he was to leave, looked grim when it came time to do so.

Jonathan had watched from the sideline as Carla threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down into an embrace that he actually returned. "Come back to us," she said softly. "Don't be afraid to call on us if any of you need help. I know having a woman on board is _supposed _to be bad luck, but –"

Percival squeezed her waist, if only for a moment, in order to emphasize how serious he was in what he said next. "I don't believe that crap and you know it. You're tougher than half my crew and that's a damn fact. I mean, come on…have you seen Nervous Guy?"

Carla had chuckled softly at the comment, but the sincerity in her eyes never vanished. "The tales I've heard of this 'Ghost Ship' don't compare to what you've actually seen. I'm scared for you, Percival. I'm scared for all of you." The Latina's eyes had darted to both John and Christopher before scanning the rest of the crew, who had already begun boarding _the Sacred Heart._ "I don't know what's out there – what's waiting for you – but this 'Ghost Ship' is not something to take lightly. You have to know that."

"Carla –"

"No," she said firmly. "I'm serious. I know you, Captain Percival. You're a prideful man, which is understandable, given the life you've lived; the life, to some degree, you're _still _living. It's almost a necessity out here; something you have to have in order to survive, but in some cases, your pride can also be a _threat._

"Captain…I don't know what you're up against, exactly, but I know it's something big. If you need help, don't let your pride convince you otherwise. Asking won't make you weak, but letting yourself and your crew be overrun due to not seeking help when you need it, well…that's an entirely different matter."

"I came to you for help with gathering information, didn't I?"

The waitress had nodded, yet the look on her faced remained bleak. "And yet, out of the eight years in which I've known you, that was the first time you ever asked for help."

"But it wasn't the first time you've given it to me."

Carla smiled, silently understanding what the older man was trying to say. _You're my consistency. You're the person I can count on without even asking. You're the closest friend I've had besides Benjamin. _Of course, none of that was actually said, but the message was clear all the same. "You're welcome," she finally answered.

Hugging him one final time, John watched quietly as Percival walked back on board. It wasn't until the vessel set sail did the brunet allow himself to cry, the image of Elliot making Abigail's tiny hand wave goodbye being the last thing he saw.

Now, hours later, John found himself standing on the deck and staring at the sun rise; unable to keep his mind off of their current destination.

The man who had stumbled into Carla's restaurant – Governor Hutnik, as they later found out – had spent the last ten days out at sea in a small, battered row boat; desperately making his way towards whatever town he happened on first. Why?

Because his town had been hit by The Ghost Ship.

Unlike Governor Corman, Governor Hutnik actually _cared _about his people. Not trusting anybody to respond fast enough to his letters for help, the young politician had taken to sea with no food, water, or money to his name (what with The Ghost Ship having taken it all). Desperate to find help for his village, he'd volunteered himself for the journey, not wanting his people to suffer anymore than they already had been.

The man was Corman's foil, and for that, Percival liked him almost instantly.

Of course, after having such havoc wreaked upon his town by pirates, the middle aged blonde was a little hesitant to board _the Sacred Heart. _But, once again proving how different he was from Corman, the Governor soon showered the crew with appreciation for volunteering to assist him and his people.

Now, as _the Sacred Heart _made its way towards Hutnik's town, John couldn't help but feel anxious as to what they would find.

"Doing alright there, kid?"

Usually, the interruption would have startled him, but if there was one thing he knew about Captain Percival, it was that he was an early riser.

The brunet turned around with a smile, ever thankful for his father's company. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just…thinking, I guess. Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Fire away there, Newbie."

"Earlier today, or, well, yesterday now…"

"Jonathan…"

"Right. Last night, right before Governor Hutnik woke up, you were getting ready to tell me something; something that had to do with me bringing the supplies, I think. Do you remember what it was? I mean…am I allowed to know?"

It was a moment before Captain Percival answered, but when he did, it was certainly not the answer he'd been expecting. "Apart from the lack of blankets, it was the same thing Ben brought when…when we first found you."

The used-to-be-cabin-boy swallowed, not at all having prepared himself for such a response. Every time Ben came up in conversation, it was impossible not to feel any sort of pain, and yet, as horrible as his shipwreck from _the Fractured Enid _had been, the memory of first waking up under Percival's care was a good one, even if it hadn't seemed that way at the time.

Bittersweet nostalgia filled his senses as he recalled his first day aboard his favorite vessel. While he may have been unconscious during the time in which Ben came back with supplies – supplies meant to help _him,_ of all people – John was still able to picture the moment perfectly, just by the Captain's description. The image of Ben trotting into the cabin with a smile on his face and a load of goods in his arms made him want to yell, laugh and cry; all at the same time.

"You remind me of him sometimes," Percival stated suddenly, allowing himself to be open in a way that the brunet hadn't expected from him either. "But I guess that's not a big surprise there, what with you two being so damn optimistic."

Jonathan couldn't help but crack a smile at the older man's hidden compliment. It was hard to believe there was a time in which he'd so easily miss them. Now, they were borderline fun to look for. "Captain," he started again, not knowing how to address his confession about seeing Ben in him, "What do you think we'll find at Governor Hutnik's town?"

This time, there was no pause. This time, the Captain answered immediately. "I don't know what we'll find, but I damn sure know what I_ want_ to find."

"What?" he asked curiously.

The older man crossed his arms and flicked his nose, his gaze now focused on the rising sun before them. "Answers."

**-MV-**

Upon arriving at port, Jonathan's heart plummeted to his stomach, the image of weary townspeople running from the sight of their ship filling him with guilt. Not that he could blame them. The Jolly Roger was visible for miles, and after what they just went through, well…he knew if the situation was reversed, he'd be running too. It wasn't until Governor Hutnik revealed himself at the helm, waving to his village and proclaiming it safe to approach.

After docking, the first several hours consisted of unloading the ship of its goods. The people who were strong enough helped carry crates of food, money, and medicine to the town's safe place, while those who were too malnourished to even stand were immediately taken care of by Percival and the rest of the crew; all of them applying their skills to those who needed it.

While it killed to see so many people in pain, the general mood of _the Sacred Heart_ was that of sheer relief. No, the sight of people on the verge of starvation was _not _a pleasant one, but the fact that no one had died yet? That they made it on time to help? After weeks of staring death in the face, it was definitely something to celebrate over, even if their relief was never spoken of aloud; afraid of scaring the already frightened village.

As the food was being distributed to each individual family, Captain Percival asked if he could look at what remained.

"'What was left behind?'" the local blacksmith asked irritably. "Nothing! Nothing at all! Do you not understand what The Ghost Ship _is? _They take _everything!_"

Jonathan watched as Percival swallowed his frustration long enough to answer. As angry as the older man could get, he was more than aware of the situation at hand, allowing him to put his frustration to the side long enough to make himself clear. "I want to look at the nothing left behind. I want to see how thorough they are in order to get a better idea of what it is we're dealing with here."

Swallowing his pride, the blacksmith offered his home as the older man's first example. Hesitantly, Jonathan followed him into the house, anxious as to what they would find.

The sight before him shouldn't have shocked him as much as it did, but the brunet's eyes couldn't help but widen upon stepping inside of the blacksmith's empty home.

The place had been wiped clean.So much so that, had he not known any better, John would have thought the house was up for sale.

There were still marks on the hard surfaces; dust having outlined where various items had sat before being pillaged. The cabinets and closets were bare to the bone; not even a cob web remaining in their wake. Neither of them needed to see where it was they stored their money in order to know it'd been taken, but when they were shown the empty space that used to be their storage, the extent of The Ghost Ship's ability was made absolutely clear.

"They take _everything_," the blacksmith repeated. "Not a crumb remains for the people they steal from."

"Do you remember anything?" Percival asked grimly, eyes still scanning the desolate home. "Something you saw, something you heard… Anything that would help us track these people down?"

After scoffing at their attackers being referred to as "people," the blacksmith looked the auburn haired pirate in the eye, showing him respect for the first time since making port. "Believe me when I say that I _want _to give you information, but also believe me when I say that, if I saw anything, I'd already be out at sea myself. I would sail to the edge of the world if it meant hunting these monsters down. I'd bring their heads back to my village, just to bring these people peace."

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably while Percival himself remained quiet. They were in the threshold of the blacksmith's dining room, the older man's eyes still scanning what little remained.

"Nothing but furniture," he commented suddenly, drawing the attention of both Jonathan and their current host. "Your table over there…is that gold on the bottom?"

The blacksmith peered over at the table in question, eyes landing on the legs that were trimmed with the precious metal. "Yes," he responded quietly, tone holding a certain amount of confusion. "Actually, now that you mention it, I'm surprised they didn't take that with them. It's one of the few valuables my family owns."

"But it's big," the Captain observed darkly. "Bigger than their ship would be able to carry if they were holding other cargo. It didn't hit me as unusual at the time. My attention was distracted by, well, you don't really need to know what we found there… But looking back on those previous towns, every village we came across was still furnished with large items; couches, tables, beds… They were all there. Ratty, of course, which I guess is why I'm only noticing it now; because those things wouldn't have brought them any money anyway, but your table? It's worth something, no doubt about it, yet it still remains in your living room."

"They're not getting rid of it right away," John spoke at once, the realization flowing out of him before he could stop it. "They're hitting town after town without stopping, only making port when –"

"When their ship is too full to carry anymore. Exactly. They can't take the bigger stuff because there's no place to put it. Six couches, six beds, six kitchen tables… That much weight on any vessel would not bode well over time. They have to leave room on their ship for the next town they pillage, so they leave the heavy stuff – the bigger stuff – in order to focus on what it is they know they can carry. It's why the towns are so small; the ones they've pillaged so far. Their ship could be huge, for all we know, but no vessel is big enough to carry an entire town worth of valuables; not the bigger ones, anyway."

"And no crew is large enough to empty one overnight," John added, his pulse beating rapidly as the pieces came together.

"Good lad," the older man whispered in response, his voice both grave and relieved from the method that was being revealed. "They target towns that they know they can rob blind. They store the goods away, hit the next smallest town, and continue that pattern till they can't hold anymore. They sell what they've collected overtime to make more room, and then…and then they do it all over again."

Jonathan swallowed. Hard. The Captain had not only come here to help, but to get answers, and all be damned if he wasn't getting them.

**-MV-**

While curiosity still ran high as to what The Ghost Ship was really all about, the crew of _the Sacred Heart_ had enough information to go on in order to form some kind of plan.

After telling Governor Hutnik what it was they found out about their attackers, the Governor helped compile a list of various towns that were closest to their own. If their theory was right and The Ghost Ship didn't sell their bounty after each and every village, then they were sure to rob another small town in the nearby vicinity. If _the Sacred Heart _could get to at least _one _of them before The Ghost Ship actually came, they could warn the villagers of what was to come. Not only that, but they could stay there until it actually _did._ If they remained hidden as the devilish vessel made port, Captain Percival and his men could attack when the moment was right; catching their crew in the act and hauling their asses on board; tied up and ready for trial.

"Thank you," Governor Hutnik said sincerely, shaking Percival's hand as the crew readied themselves to set sail. "Your kindness here will not be forgotten. However, I know that's not enough. Is there any way I could repay you?"

"Don't," the auburn haired pirate answered immediately. "You have nothing to pay me _with,_ unless you want to give back what it is my crew and I just gave you. We don't need payment; not this time, anyway."

The Governor managed a small smile while Percival shed a grin of his own. "Take care, Governor Hutnik. You're a good man."

The middle aged blonde nodded seriously, his appreciation evident in his eyes. "As are you, Doctor Percival. Thank you for assisting my people. You would be surprised to learn how many of these small towns are still without a physician, even the ones who haven't been hit."

"I don't think I would," the older man responded grimly, "But, despite popular belief, that doesn't mean I don't give a damn."

Nodding his goodbye, the older man made his way back onto the ship, Jonathan right behind him. Well, almost, anyway…

"Wait! Wait a minute!"

The Captain, who was already by the main mast, did not hear the stranger's call. Jonathan, however, did. Turning around, the brunet walked over to where an older man now stood panting; a small, shy looking boy by his side.

"My son," he breathed wearily, clearly having run a great distance to catch them before leaving. "My son found something that may be of help to your journey. We've asked everyone in the village, but no one has claimed it as their own. It could belong to anybody, really, but on the off chance that it serves a better purpose, allow us to give it to you, even if it's no more than misplaced item."

Confused, Jonathan couldn't help the way his eyebrows came together, but he nodded all the same, not wanting to dismiss either of them after having ran so far to meet them.

Hesitantly, the young lad before him reached out towards Jonathan, opening his hand to reveal what it was that made the thirteen year old gasp.

Resting in the palm of his hand was a pouch full of money; its color dark red and its trim brilliant gold.

_**A/N:**__ I know this will be hard to believe, but I apologize for the cliffhanger, I really do, especially since there won't be an update next week. The vacation wasn't planned at the time I came up with how I wanted this chapter to end, but once I did, I couldn't have it end any other way, you know? Anyway, that's about it from me. Have a great week, you guys. I'll be working on the next chapter as much as humanly possible, so until then, I hope your week is a good one. Until next time!_


	10. Chapter X

_**A/N: **__Hey, guys! Okay, that was probably a little too chipper, but I'm back from my vacation and feeling more like myself than I have for the past couple of months. But before we get into things here, let me just say how nice it was to come back home to all of your reviews. Honest to God, you guys are amazing, you really are. I also got a very lovely message from __**Lolryne**__, who drew a piece from this story's prequel, "My Captain." I posted the link to it on my profile, so if you have time, I would definitely suggest checking it out, as she did an awesome job with it. :) Anyway, that's about it for me. I hope this chapter was worth the wait and that you guys had a good week while I was gone. Enjoy! _

_**Random Side Note:**__ If any of you are able to visit NYC sometime in the next couple of weeks, I would highly suggest buying tickets to see the play "Trust" starring Zach Braff. If you like hilarious plays that still manage to have a number of serious moments, then I definitely think you'll enjoy this one._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter X:**

_"Your face, it dances and it haunts me; your laughter still ringing in my ears. I still find pieces of your presence here, even after all these years."_

_-I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You, by Colin Hay-_

Jonathan stared at the pouch that lay in the palm of his hand, blue eyes wide with a realization he could not yet accept, even with Jack's voice ringing in his ears.

"_You wouldn't have noticed a pouch somewhere, would you? Maybe on the way in or something? It's dark red with gold trimming; about as big as my hand."_

Confusion clouding his clarity as to what this new piece of evidence could mean, Jonathan stuffed the item in question deep inside his pocket, thanking the older man and his son before shakily making his way back onto _the Sacred Heart. _Not trusting their sleeping corridors to be a safe enough place for reflection (what with having been interrupted twice in a row by Christopher) Jonathan asked Captain Percival if he could take residence in his cabin, if only for a minute. The older man had raised a curious eyebrow, blue eyes sharp with barely hidden concern.

"You okay there, kid?" he asked after a second or two.

Jonathan nodded, hands itching to reach for the pouch that sent his mind into a whirlwind of scattered and startled thoughts.

After he was granted permission (was there ever really a chance he'd say no?) the young brunet rushed into the cabin, pulling out the red, gold trimmed pouch the minute the door was closed.

Jonathan's heart leapt wildly as he took in the sight of his newly acquired possession, his mind a mess of thoughts as he tried to piece it all together.

But what was "it" exactly?

"It" could stand for several things. The pouch itself, the mysterious Ghost Ship, the towns left behind in their wake…

Or "it" could stand for a certain Jack Sullivan.

Though that would then change "it" to "him" now, wouldn't it.

Jonathan shook his head rapidly, shaggy brown locks skewing his vision as he did so. This was insane. Absolutely insane! Just because none of the villagers claimed the pouch to be their own didn't mean that the item had to _automatically _belong to someone on the Ghost Ship, right? Couldn't it have been a long lost treasure that a townsperson had forgotten about years before the malicious vessel even arrived?

But most people – especially those who are down on their luck – wouldn't just forget about a lost pouch full of money.

Hesitantly, the thirteen year old opened the velvet treasure, eyes going wide at the contents therein.

There were a _lot _of shillings in there; more than most sixteen year old teenagers – even sixteen year old pirates – carried on their being on a day to day basis. He, or whoever else had been with him, would've had to acquire a consistent and profitable means of providing for themselves, and in the world of piracy, that was never a humble little business that bloomed into sudden success based on nothing short of hard work and passion.

Money like that, especially in the hands of pirate, meant that there was some serious pillaging going on.

Damn it!

John didn't really know why it bothered him so much; the idea that this Jack Sullivan could be a part of such a monstrous crew. He only met the Lion Boy once, but he really liked him; had considered him a friend in the making. Not only that, but his personality just didn't mesh with the Ghost Ship's trail of destruction at _all. _He'd been so kind; so eager to help with his bloody nose, so insistent on making it up to him… How could someone like that be a part of a horrible thing like the ship they were chasing after now?

And yet his philosophy on pillaging made perfect sense, didn't it…

_"Hate to say it, but stealing's really not so bad, once you get used to it. I mean, you're a pirate: you know how it is, but what I'm saying is that pillaging is a lot less harmful than most crimes out there, you know?"_

Jonathan shivered. His take on stealing from others was more than obvious, and yet…and yet…

His perspective in terms of stealing had been more than obvious, yes, but his other philosophy…

"_The Navy gets their pants in a twist over something as frivolous as stealing, when the truth is, people are out there dying because of their inability to stop far worse crimes than that. Crimes that should never go unpunished."_

"'_Crimes that should never go unpunished?' What kind of crimes?"_

"_Murder, of course! What did you think I meant?"_

There was no doubt about it: Jack's complete disapproval of killing was unquestionable.

So what did that mean? Did it mean that Jack really _wasn't _a part of the Ghost Ship? Did it mean that he actually was, but he thought murder was okay if it was indirect? Or maybe…

It was then that a thought struck Jonathan so strongly, so intensely, that his immediate reaction was to take a seat on the Captain's bed. It was just too crazy; too outside the realm of possibility. After all of the destruction he and the rest of _the Sacred Heart_ had witnessed together, after all of the lives they saw destroyed, how could this new thought hold any real validity? And yet once it hit him, it wouldn't go away; a theory that tied all of his previous ones together in a way that both made complete and utter sense while making no sense at all.

Was it possible that the Ghost Ship didn't actually _know_ what their pillaging had caused? Could it be that they stole on a day to day basis without any realization as to what it was doing to the towns left behind?

The idea made his hair stand on end as an accompanying shiver crept down his spine. How could they _not _know? Yet at the same time, how would they? It would make no sense for them to go back to a town in which they had plundered, knowing full well that the possibility of their capture was high. Yet they took _so_ _much _from those towns. Was it really possible that they didn't grasp the full concept of what it was they were doing to those people? What it was they had already done?

A sharp knock had Jonathan back up on his feet in mere seconds. Without waiting for a "Come in," Captain Percival opened the door to his cabin, eyeing the boy in front him suspiciously.

"I'm okay," the brunet commented softly, recognizing the concern in the older man's gaze as quick as Ben used to. "Just needed a minute to get my thoughts together, I guess…"

Eyebrows still drawn together in obvious disbelief, Jonathan shifted awkwardly where he stood. He had always been a terrible liar. Besides the fact that lying in and of itself was rare for him, it was rarer in that it was the Captain he was lying too. Okay, maybe they weren't _lies _lies, but he'd been doing it a lot lately; the whole sneaking around thing. It left a guilty pit in his stomach that he didn't want to face.

"Well, I hope your thoughts are together then," the Captain finally responded, "Because it's time for sparring practice. Now come."

**-MV-**

Percival made his way towards the lower deck, young Jonathan right behind him. He knew damn well that the kid was hiding something. It wasn't just today that he noticed it either. It was weeks ago, actually; the night he had found him on the main deck of _the Sacred Heart_, sewing away at sails he had previously neglected.

_Let it go._

Ah, he hadn't felt that in a while; that voice that contradicted his gut instinct. It should have left him feeling angry – disturbed, even – but instead, an odd sort of peace would always flow through him. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he came to realize that whatever instinct that was overpowering his usual confrontational one had never actually contradicted his suspicions. It was just a feeling, really; something that seemed insistent upon reminding him not to push it; to let the lad have a few secrets, if only just for now.

"For now" being those two key words…

Either way, was it really that wrong to wonder what was going on with this son? Wasn't that being a good father? Hell if he'd know, what with him having done such a _wonderful_ job with this first son… Still, his suspicion about whatever was bugging John didn't stem from a place of malice. He knew the kid was an awful liar, so his attempts lately were just plain obvious, but he also knew that the kid would never lie based on selfish reasoning; that, if there was something he was trying to hide, he _too_ wasn't coming from a place of spite.

Having finally cleared away both barrels of water and rum, the two stood across from one another in the dimly lit room, John looking to Percival for further instructions.

"We haven't practiced since seeing Carla, so we're really going to have to step it up if we want to be prepared."

"Prepared… You mean for the towns on Governor Hutnik's list?"

Percival nodded. There was a lot more too it then that, of course; like the plan he was currently putting together in order to capture the crew of the Ghost Ship, but he didn't want to tell Jonathan – or the rest of the crew, for that matter – before it was entirely developed. Riling them up with an idea he hadn't finished executing just wasn't his style.

"You've gotten considerably better since we first set sail," Percival said in a rare bout of blatant praise, "But, 'I'm better than I used to be,' isn't going to cut it when we come face to face with that black hearted crew, so c'mon there, Newbie; let's see what you got."

Hands hovering over the hilts of their swords, it was a small nod from the Captain that sent the two pirates running towards each other in a rush; the both of them extracting their swords at the last second before they clashed with a resounding _clang. _

As their weapons collided and crashed, Percival couldn't help but reflect on how he no longer had to hold back with Jonathan. The first time he decided to go at the kid with the full weight of his skill, he had felt more than just a little hesitant. But constantly holding back was only going to cripple him. If they were ever going to be forced into battle again (which was appearing more and more likely given the vessel they were currently after) the older man knew damn well that no devious cutthroat was going to go easy on him due to his age. Jonathan had to know what he was up against in order to be truly prepared, and that meant going at him with everything he had.

Mind having been fairly deep in reflection, the Captain was surprised when Jonathan's sword knocked against his own with a resounding crash; the force of his swing having caused Percival to almost lose hold of his hilt. The competitive side of him roared at the impact, but the father side of him took a secret thrill in knowing that his protégé was now skilled to the point where he had to pay full attention when sparring with him.

However, that cocky little smirk on the young teen's face was just see-_hoe _not going to fly.

Moving to take his last and final swing, Percival was caught completely off guard when John not only noticed it coming, but decided to both defend and attack all in one, swift motion; a move he would have never thought possible from the teen.

Having been forcibly led to the wall, Jonathan was at the perfect distance to take full advantage of the very same trap the older man had set up for him. Bringing his left leg back until the bottom of his foot was planted firmly on the wall behind him, Jonathan pushed himself off and into the air, if only for a moment, before doing a complete summersault onto the wooden planks below, seamlessly diving through Percival's outstretched legs in order to get out of his reach. He'd used the diving between his stance trick before, but holy hell, it was _never _like that.

What really made his mouth drop (in his head, anyway) was when, instead of going on the defense by putting space between them before the Captain turned back around, the older man felt a small prick at the back of his spine; the tip of Jonathan's sword meeting his clothes with barely an inch left in between.

The pirate's eyes widened at the contact, and as proud as he was of his ever-learning pupil, no part of him could let him get away with that maneuver.

Turning around faster than one could say, "Davy Jones' Locker," the physician thrust his sword against the one at his back, sending it flying through the air and crashing to the floor.

Silence ensued as both men stood across from each other, much like they had before the practice had begun. Jonathan's eyes were wide with shock, though there was something else there too; something that Percival himself was more than familiar with.

_Thrill._

What he detected underneath that, however, was what set his teeth on edge. Beneath the shock and the thrill and the rush of adrenaline, the older man couldn't help but notice a dose of fear. Not from having his sword thrust out of his hand, but from the fact that _his _sword had met the edge of _his _back.

"S-Sorry," John stuttered.

"No you're not"

John immediately blanched, the two of them silently understanding the meaning behind the older man's words. The brunet _wasn't _sorry for having almost beaten Percival, but not in a vindictive way. The reason he wasn't sorry was because he knew that there was never any threat; for his safety and _especially _for the Captain's. There was no reason to apologize because there was no real danger to begin with; at least not between the two of them.

So why the apology?

The "sorry" was not a response to having almost won, but a response to the fear that Jonathan knew existed from having almost beaten his father. What worried Percival the most was that his hesitance did not stem from the knowledge that he was, in fact, his father, but the knowledge that he was now skilled enough to successfully beat a lot of people out there. And not just in sparring matches, but in real, full on battles.

No, the fear was not born from the realization that he had almost beaten Percival, but from the realization that he could now properly defend himself in battle.

From the realization that he could kill.

_That _was why John had apologized. For not only having the ability, but knowing damn well that he couldn't actually act on it.

A part of the Captain, a selfish part, wanted to feed his son's fear. The idea of Jonathan killing made his blood run cold. Not just because the lad was his son (though that was admittedly a very big part of it) but simply in that this was _Jonathan _he was talking about.

But another part of him, the logical part, anyway, knew that Jonathan's fear was one that had to be conquered. No, he would never _encourage _him to kill, and God only knew how much Percival hoped that he would never, nee-hee-hee-_hever_ have to make that decision. But, if the time came where a sword was brought to his neck – _again_ – the boy would have to make a decision: His life or his attacker's.

As of now, John would most likely opt for the blade against his throat.

Deciding that the discussion was best left for another day in order to let the kid think, Percival turned towards the direction of John's sword. Picking it up with a casual flip, the older man turned back around to present it to his son; the memory of when he first gave it to him flooding through his mind before reality called him back to attention.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No," he answered calmly, the air around them slowly settling back into the norm. "I do, however, have a suggestion." Not wanting to focus back on the silent problem they both knew existed, the older man turned his attention to an idea he'd been contemplating during his last several sparring practices with Jonathan. "You've been getting better and better at this style, so much so that you've even incorporated your own tricks into it as well. Let's face it, Newbie: You're not exactly a 'Newbie' at this anymore, are you?"

Jonathan flushed, alerting the older man that his praise of him was still very much appreciated.

"You have this style – Benjamin's and mine – borderline perfected, and I'm talking down to a '_T_' here, kid. So how about this: How about you name it."

Not unexpectedly, the brunet's eyes widened; his awe struck expression staring up into his own. "Captain?"

"You heard right. This style is yours now, remember? I gave it to you, and so it is your responsibility to perfect it; to treat it to the best of your ability. This form of fighting… Ben and I never really gave it a name. We just called it 'our style' amongst ourselves and when teaching the crew, but now this brand of protection is in your hands and your hands alone. Name it what you will, but it's important…it's important that you name it."

Jonathan nodded softly, understanding the true meaning behind the older man's words. "Thank you, Captain. I'll give it a name as soon as I think of one. One that…one that will carry on…"

Percival nodded, seemingly indifferent, but it did not take away from the sincerity of their conversation.

**-MV-**

For as busy as his day had been, John would've thought falling asleep an easy task, yet hours after he first laid down in his hammock, his mind was still busy dealing with a whirlwind of thoughts, keeping the young teen wide awake.

First, there was the mystery that was Jack Sullivan. Was he or was he not a member of the Ghost Ship? Was the discovery even worth telling the Captain about?

Then there was the unspoken realization between both him and Captain Percival: The knowledge that he – Jonathan Michael Dorian – was physically able to kill someone. As for mentally? Emotionally? Well, that was entirely different…

Then, of course, there was the bittersweet honor of carrying on Ben's legacy. No, it was never phrased in such away, but the Captain's insistence upon naming the style both he and his first mate had created together was more than obvious, and the older man knew it too. Giving their form of fighting a title wasn't for Percival's benefit; a way to indirectly boost his ego. It was so that something that Ben had helped create – had put his time and effort into – would be able to live on.

Tears gathered at the back of Jonathan's eyes at the thought of the former first mate, forcing him to blink them away. He didn't always cry upon thinking of Benjamin anymore. The pain, while still very much there, had become more bearable over time; allowing him to think back on his memory with a smile. Sometimes, though, it was just too hard to hold back; especially after a day like today, in which he silently wished that he _didn't _have to create a name to carry on Ben's legacy. Not because he wasn't honored, but because he wished that Ben was still alive to do so for himself.

Sniffling, John silently contemplated his last couple of months aboard _the Sacred Heart._ How would Ben have reacted upon going back to sea? How would Ben have responded upon hearing about the Ghost Ship? How would Ben have handled coming across those death ridden towns? What would Ben have said upon seeing Jonathan's heart break for the first time? What would he have said if John came up to him, scared and confused, about knowing how to kill but not being able to?

What would he have said?

Wiping his last remaining tear with the end of his palm, John knew what he had to do in order to distract himself from those heart wrenching questions; questions that he'd never get an answer to.

Making sure not to wake anyone, the young brunet quietly opened the compartment, his free hand reaching for the lantern that had been there since the first night Phillip had given it to him.

Sitting up so that it was easier to read the journal, Jonathan opened it to where he had folded the last page, not at all suspecting to see the date that stared back.

_April 2__nd__, 1712_

Like a shot of adrenaline to the veins, the journal grabbed the teen's undivided attention, his mind now busy with what lay before him rather than his previous thoughts. 17_12_? That meant that the author didn't write in his journal for _three years _since the last entry. What on earth had happened?

_April 2__nd__, 1712_

_ Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? This is another reason why I stopped writing when I was a kid. I always got so passionate about keeping a journal and recording the various points in my life, only to then lose interest months later. I guess it's because my main source of expression lies with my paintings. Like I've always said, I don't consider myself a writer, but I do enjoy it from time to time._

Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief, silently wondering if it was weird to have been so concerned over a man he never met. Still, hearing that nothing had happened to him other than losing interest in keeping a journal made the knot in his gut untie itself immediately.

Still, he had to wonder: What was it about the painter's life that had suddenly caused him to write again?

Feeling the knot that had just undone itself slowly start to reform, Jonathan read further, ignoring the silent cloud of dread that loomed over his shoulder like an uninvited guest.

_I can't help but wish that what made me pick this thing up again was due to a series of good events, but unfortunately, it's quite the opposite._

_ Those two have been fighting non-stop lately. I've been volunteering to babysit just to get that poor kid out of there. Don't get me wrong; they're good parents. I have no doubts that either of them would take a canon to the chest for the lad, I really don't, but they don't get that, even at three years old, the tyke is still going to be able to tell that something is wrong with all of that hollering back and forth. Their relationship just keeps getting worse and worse, and I hate to say this, what with her being my sister, but she's always the one to kindle that fire. _

His sister! After all this time, Jonathan finally knew who the frequently mentioned "she" was in relation to the author! Well, that was a fun revelation, at least, though the theme of this entry wasn't sounding exactly positive, so far. Very unusual, for the artist…

_All I know is that those two are really on the rocks, and to make matters worse, his already frail patience has been even frailer, what with his newest bout of patients._

Wait…what? His friend he always talked about was a doctor? Well, he didn't see that one coming, but it was definitely an interesting discovery. Maybe, if he ever got up the courage to tell Captain Percival about the journal, he would like to read it himself for information as to how other physicians were approaching various ailments, if the journalist himself ever delved into that, of course.

Shaking his head, the young brunet read on.

_Three different people were carried – literally carried – to his practice the other day. All of them are on the brink of death, and he just doesn't know what to do. It wasn't until yesterday that he came up with this idea that just seems…I don't know. I'm not a physician, but I've never heard of such a method like the one he wants to try. Then again, these people are on the verge of death. Of _course_ he's willing to try anything. I know if I were the one in need of medical attention, I'd want my physician to try anything as well._

_ It's just that opening someone's body, no matter how strong the means of sedation, just seems very, very risky._

Wait…

_And his boss – that stout man with his balding counterpart – has been giving me a bad feeling lately; a very bad feeling._

Wait a minute…

_I went to see him the other day, hoping to cheer him up a little, and I swear to you – that man wore a smile that was straight from the devil himself; all while staring at those patients; all while staring at him._

No. No way.

_Maybe I'm just being paranoid, since I know those two don't get along as it is, but from past experiences, I know I don't get that feeling on a whim. _

No. Just…no! It was impossible, wasn't it? There was just no way; no way that this journal could belong to –

_But maybe it really is just my Per-Bear senses tingling; maybe I just worry a little too much about him._

This time, Jonathan didn't bother to stop the tears. With the latest journal entry read – the entry that explained it all – the young brunet held it to his chest like a long lost treasure, rocking himself back and forth as he hid his crying eyes behind shaking knees, trying desperately not to wake up the crew.

How hadn't he realized it earlier? How hadn't he figured it out?

Trembling, Jonathan's arms wrapped lovingly around the leather bound book, hugging it as if he were hugging a long lost friend.

It all made sense now; from entry number one to the entry he just finished reading. The struggling artist, the arguing couple, the three year old boy, the optimism that laced almost each and every entry; even his ever growing feelings of warm familiarity as he read the journal over time; the writer's ability to make him laugh on the darkest of days, the sense that they were friends…

The keeper of the journal was not just some struggling painter from years past, no. The author of the book that had helped him escape from reality was none other than Benjamin himself; the diary a long lost fragment from his past; a fragment that the used-to-be-cabin-boy now clung to like a life line.

Jonathan spent the rest of the night crying before finally falling asleep, the journal still clutched to his chest. The last thing he remembered thinking – the last thing he remembered _wishing_ – was that it was Benjamin he clung to instead; not just the journal left behind.

_**A/N:**__ Not much to say here other than that I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Until next time! _


	11. Chapter XI

_**A/N:**__ Hey, guys! I honestly can't think of much to say this time around. Maybe it's the four hours of sleep I got last night, who knows, but me and my extra large cup of coffee would just like to take a moment to thank you all for the very much appreciated reviews. Seriously, I know I say it every time, but I also mean it every time, so thank you. Anyway, that's about it from me. I hope you enjoy the chapter!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing. _

**Chapter XI:**

_"I hear the sound of the ticking of clocks. Who remembers your face? Who remembers you when you are gone? I hear the sound like the ticking of clocks. Come back and look for me; look for me when I am lost."_

_-Whisper, by Coldplay-_

The next morning met Jonathan with swollen eyes and a tear stained pillow. Having just returned from a town that _wasn't _full of corpses, the vast majority of _the Sacred Heart_ spent their morning asking the brunet what was wrong. (During the weeks in which they repeatedly found the abandoned villages, no one had asked him – or anyone else, for that matter – why his eyes were swollen, since the answer was more than obvious). Now, though, their curiosity was rising. A part of John was appreciative of the questions, as it showed him how much they truly cared, but a part of him really wished they would stop, hating having to lie over and over again while not quite knowing how, or if he even should, tell the truth. Really, how exactly would that go? "Did I tell you that I've been reading Ben's journal for the past several months? Decent writer, that one."

Probably not the best idea.

Having told himself that his day was going to get better from there on out, it only made the ship's next discovery even more heartbreaking than it would have been in and of itself.

For the sixth time since departing from Percival's home town, _the Sacred Heart _sailed up to yet another deceased village.

"DAMN THEM ALL TO HELL!"

This time, the Captain did not take to withdrawing to his cabin in order to release his rage. The crew flinched simultaneously, the lot of them moving towards the railing in order to get out of the way. The pirates could only watch as their leader threw his sword at the main mast, where it struck with a stomach turning _stab._ Calloused hands grasped the top of the railing that looked out over the town as they went about shaking it violently. From where John stood wincing, he could actually see the Captain's knuckles turn white as blood streamed delicately from the splinters that cut, wondering how much abuse his father's hands could take in one life time.

After screaming, or rather, _roaring_ for at least five minutes, the Captain's jagged breathes calmed down into a cold sort of rhythm. It was Phillip Wen who was the first to approach; his voice having maintained its serenity throughout the course of the older man's rage.

"Shall we bury the dead?"

At those words, Shilling Guy moved closer, but he was cut off when the Captain's answer was not at all what they were expecting.

"No."

"Captain?" he asked curiously.

Head down and eyes still closed, Percival's hands gripped the railing even tighter, the blades of his shoulders visible as they openly tensed before speaking. "The towns on Governor Hutnik's list were not written at random. He wrote them down in order from most in danger to least in danger."

Having been standing by Jonathan, the brunet was the first to notice Christopher shake his head in aggravated confusion. "So wait, Governor Hutnik _knew _these people were going to be attacked and didn't say anything?"

"Of course not. All of the towns he gave me were towns just as small as his, if not smaller, which is what we know the Ghost Ship is after. The reason he listed this one as the greatest threat was because he hasn't heard from them in months.

"For those of you who _don't_ know, small towns that live close to one another are in fairly consistent communication with each other as well. If one town is in need of medicine while the other town is in need of lumber, they're usually more than willing to assist their neighboring village."

"S-So then why didn't Governor H-Hutnik go to one of those towns when he was h-hit by the G-Ghost Ship?"

"He wrote them letters before departing, but this one, along with a few others, never responded, and the ones that did were hit by the Ghost Ship as well. Kind of hard to trade with a town that has nothing to offer."

"That still doesn't explain why we're not burying the dead," Todd cut in obliviously. "Don't they deserve to rest in peace?"

The Captain took a sharp intake of breath, causing the young brunet to glare at the ember haired pirate. It was a reasonable question, of course, but it was clear that the Captain's struggle came from the fact that he _wanted_ to bury them; that he felt bad for not being able to do so, whatever his logic was behind the decision. While it may have been asked innocently enough, Jonathan couldn't help but give Todd an angry once over, even if the older man didn't seem to notice.

"Of course they do," Percival finally answered, voice uncharacteristically low. "But, if you can stomach it, pay attention to the state of the bodies. They haven't been rotting as long as the villages we found prior to meeting Governor Hutnik. Bear in mind that he sent those letters out only a few weeks before taking to the sea. That means this town couldn't have been dead for too long now, which also means –"

"That the Ghost Ship is nearby."

All heads turned towards Jonathan, who immediately flushed at the sudden attention he was receiving from the rest of the crew.

Too angry at the scene before him to get angry over being cut off, the older man nodded wearily; jaw still tight with leftover rage. "Yes," he answered after a moment. "We're gaining on them. And after we catch these sons of bitches, we _will _come back here to bury these people, but burying them now will only put us farther behind in our chase of these black hearted bastards; it'll only give them more of a chance to target yet another innocent village. I'm not sure about you men, but I don't know how much more deceased towns I can take, I really don't. The likely hood of another village having been hit is more than probable, but if we leave right away, we may be able to save them before starvation takes its toll."

Knowing he was right, the crew immediately took to hoisting the sails, doing their best to distract themselves from looking back at the rotting town.

Upon watching his fellow pirates scatter away, Jonathan had taken to the lower deck in which he and the Captain spent their sparring practices. Quietly, JD withdrew the red velvet pouch, its weight feeling heavier than usual in the palm of his hand.

Only briefly had he contemplated telling the Captain about his new discovery. If the pouch really belonged to Jack, then it was a possibility, albeit a painful one, the he could belong to the Ghost Ship as well. If that was really the case, then the Captain deserved to know, and not just the Captain, but those _towns._

Yes, it was seeing that sixth town that made the brunet re-think not telling the older man. As rattled as he was by the discovery, he hadn't deemed it important enough to tell him, because really: Jack couldn't be the _only _one in the world with a red pouch, even if the description did match perfectly… Either way, seeing that lifeless village made the young teen realized that this was no time to hold _any _information back, even if it ended up being useless.

Anxious as to how his father would react, the brunet stuffed the pouch back into his pocket, cautiously making his way back onto the main deck in order to tell the older man what he had found.

Having expected to find him at the helm, Jonathan was surprised when he came upon Christopher, whose brown orbs were slanted in obvious displeasure from their vessel's latest discovery. "Turk?"

The surgeon's shoulders deflated considerably upon hearing his young friend's voice, glad for the distraction that was Jonathan Michael Dorian. "What's up, buddy?" he asked with pseudo optimism.

"Have you seen the Captain?"

The bald pirate sighed, as if he'd silently been expecting that question. "He went to his cabin again. I think he's drawing up a plan of attack for us; you know, whenever we end up going against that damn ship. I really can't wait to see what it is either, you know that? I really can't."

Jonathan nodded silently, understanding Turk's eagerness to have at that monstrous crew, but not quite eager for the inevitable battle himself.

Managing a small wave before departing, the used-to-be-cabin-boy made his way over to his father's cabin, knocking on the door loud enough so that the older man would be able to hear him this time, just in case he had taken to destroying his room again.

Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) Percival answered right away, ice blue eyes vibrant with rage at having been disturbed so quickly after what happened.

Ice, however, is prone to melt, especially upon being touched by something warm.

The mere sight of Jonathan staring up at him, his own blue eyes hesitant, caused the older man to instantly deflate, wearily indicating that he ought to come in with a quick nod of the head.

"I'm sorry to bother you," was the brunet's first comment.

Percival let out a small grunt, the exhaustion of the ship's latest discovery really taking its toll on the older man's mental state.

"It's just… I found something. Or rather, somebody else found something and gave it to me afterwards. I didn't…I didn't think it was important enough to share until now."

Back having been turned towards the thirteen year old, the auburn haired pirate turned around, interest piqued, as one eyebrow rose in curiosity.

Taking in the man's expression as a silent "go on," the used-to-be-cabin-boy continued. "Before leaving Governor Hutnik's town, a man and his son ran up to me, just to give me this." Carefully, the brunet withdrew the pouch from his pocket, placing it in the much larger palm that was Percival's hand.

The Captain bounced it a little, testing its weight. After venturing inside to see how many shillings were actually in there, he looked back towards his protégé, clearly at a loss as to where this confession was going. "Sorry there, Newbie, but I don't get what you're trying to say. Care to elaborate?"

Not quite understanding why he felt so nervous, Jonathan took in a long intake of breath, preparing himself for the story he was getting ready to tell and hoping that the Captain would not act negatively to having just been told now. "Remember when we were still at the festival and I told you that I met someone?"

The older man nodded briefly, still at a loss as to what Jonathan was leading up to.

"Well, he bought me some food after hurting me."

"He hurt you?" the Captain asked sharply.

The brunet shook his head, silently enjoying the man's protectiveness, but knowing now was not the time to dwell on it. "Not on purpose. We just ran into each other since the streets were so crowded, that's all."

After a silent nod from the Captain, the thirteen year old continued.

"Anyway, when he went to pay for the meal, he said he lost his pouch. He said it was dark red with gold trimming…"

Percival eyed the velvet treasure in his hand suspiciously, realizing at once why Jonathan thought this piece of information important. Still, it wouldn't do much good to have this evidence under their belts without a person of interest accompanying it. "So what was this kid's name there, Newbie?"

"His name was Jack. Jack Sullivan."

John, having first met the Captain at the age of eleven, thought he'd seen every expression there was to see from the older man, especially after having lived with him for a year, but the look that crossed his face now was something entirely different. His skin was whiter than the corpses they had found, making his blue eyes stand out in a way that was more than just a little eerie. He hadn't seen his Captain look that distraught since the death of the former first mate, yet this expression still managed to hold something different while still looking painfully grieved.

Having lowered his head so that his hat now covered his eyes, Jonathan could no longer read the man's gaze, though his tone of voice was chillingly indifferent.

"Did you get an age?"

"I-I'm sorry?"

"An _age_, Jonathan. Did Ja- Did your friend tell you how old he was?"

Swallowing down a mouth full of nerves, the young brunet answered promptly, a little confused on why that even mattered. "He said he was sixteen, but –"

"Leave."

Startled, the younger of the two didn't know how to respond. He stood frozen, wanting more than anything to understand the pirate's sudden change of mood. "Captain? I just wanted to –"

"_Leave now._"

This time, the command ran down his spine like a cold piece of ice, leaving the boy rattled. It had been thrown at him threw gritted teeth while not having been thrown at all. Assuming his anger came from him not having informed him sooner, Jonathan's gaze turned towards the floor, swallowing down a lump of shame before replying as quietly as he could. "Yes, Captain."

And then he was gone.

**-MV-**

Conflict burned within every pore of the older man's being, the weight of the gold trimmed pouch feeling considerably heavier than it had upon first being placed in his hand.

_"His name was Jack. Jack Sullivan."_

Jack. It wasn't an uncommon name. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he made port and _didn't _meet someone named Jack. Truthfully, it was as common as common could be, but his last name? No, that definitely wasn't something he heard every day. "Sullivan" was close to non-existent; both his ex-wife and Ben having been the only two people he ever met with that particular family name.

So there it was then: Jack Sullivan. A mere coincidence, if his age had been that of Jonathan's, but sixteen? It was how old his son would've been if he hadn't been torn out of his life. It was how old his son would've been if he hadn't taken to drinking on the couch, consumed by anger and guilt. It was how old his son would've been if _she_ hadn't deemed it otherwise.

Calloused hands gripped the pouch like a long lost treasure; a long lost treasure he thought more than just a little impossible to ever retrieve again. It filled him with bittersweet memories and a conscious full of regret, but it also filled him with something else too: _hope._

If the pouch was at Governor Hutnik's town, then that only meant one thing: Jack used to live there and, by some means of luck (or maybe even God, if he believed in him) had decided to sail away before the Ghost Ship attacked. That was _clearly_ the only possibility.

_No it's not. _

And it's no surprise that Jack had wound up at the festival. He was sixteen years old, after all. At that age, he didn't have to be a pirate to enjoy that type of atmosphere.

_Or that type of atmosphere could've drawn him in for the very same reason everyone and their mother was there. _

Of course, the very realization that he had been in the same town as his son and didn't even know it shook him to his core. What if he had ran into him without realizing it? The idea of not being able to recognize his own son sent a chill up the older man's spine. Not only that, but the mere thought of Jack having almost been attacked by that beast of a vessel only multiplied his desire to find the Ghost Ship in a way he didn't think possible. Just because he hadn't seen his son in thirteen years didn't take away from the fact that he was, and would always be, his son.

_Yes, but you have to come to terms with the other possibility you've yet to face; the one that had your _other _son concerned._

Jonathan. Jonathan had met Jack and _liked _him; had referred to him as his friend. That in and of itself was a relief. The boy, while not at all judgmental, was still a good judge of character, if that made any sense. If ever there was a chance of Jack coming back into his life and joining both him and the brunet, the transition would be made with ease, what with Jonathan already in agreement that Jack was a good person.

_Settle down! You are _not_ a person to get this excited this easily. Where in the hell is your head? You ra-_heely _need to think about _why _it was that Jonathan felt the need to tell you all of this in the first place. If he thought Jack used to live in Hutnik's town, he wouldn't have shared all of this information with you. It wouldn't have fazed him. The reason he told you is because there's a distinct possibility that Jack is actually a part of the Gho –_

Speaking of Jonathan… Ah, damn it. He'd told him to leave upon realizing who it was he had met. It wasn't said out of malice, but out of a deep and unquestionable need to be alone. He just needed time to process all that he had learned, and now, because of the way he handled it, John was most likely hidden away somewhere, wondering what it was he did wrong. Damn it all, he didn't mean to do that. The boy, while considerably stronger than most people his age, could still only take so much at a time. Having what he considered his father (or what the Captain hoped he considered him, anyway) throw him out after having just witnessed the destruction of yet another town was not going to bode well on the optimistic attitude he strived for the young teen to keep.

Locking the red velvet pouch into the bottom drawer of his desk, the Captain emerged from his cabin, aiming to find both Jonathan and the Ghost Ship they were chasing. After bringing them in for a trial, after making sure they were punished for their cruelty, Percival would take both Jonathan and the rest of _the Sacred Heart_ back to the pirate friendly port before returning to his life as a physician. There, he and John would search for Jack Sullivan together; eager to bring him back home.

**-MV-**

Rarely did the thirteen year old practice by himself, but since nobody needed his help up on the main deck (most likely to scared to ask him after seeing him come out of the Captain's room with a flushed face and worry filled eyes) the brunet decided to take his anxiety and expel it by means of sparring.

Of course, more often than not, John's reaction to such occurrences would have prompted him to read more of the journal, but he couldn't bring himself to read it so soon after having discovered it to be Ben's. Somehow, the young teen knew it would be okay to read; that Benjamin wouldn't mind. Maybe it was the same little voice in the back of his head that calmed him enough to read it in the first place, but whatever the case, John knew that if he went back to read it today, he would completely lose control of his tear ducts.

Not wanting to think on the Captain's reaction to his news or what Ben would have said in terms of the journal, the brunet took another sharp swing at the barrel before him, the contents therein spilling out and onto the wooden planks below.

"Out of all the barrels you could've hit, you chose the rum. Lost water I could've lived with, but the rum, Newbie, really?"

Not having heard him come down the stairs, the young pirate startled, turning his head towards the older man just in time to see him flick his nose and cross his arms. "Captain!"

The older man rolled his eyes. "Who else?" When Jonathan didn't answer, his guilt stricken gaze now staring at the shattered barrel, the older man uncrossed his arms wearily, hating having added to the teen's already heavy load. "Listen, Jonathan… I wasn't angry at you before, okay? I really wasn't."

There was a pause, in which Percival was surprised to see the end of his protégé's lips curl up into a sad little smile. "Déjà vu," he commented softly.

It took him a moment to realize what he was saying, until he remembered their encounter last he visited the cabin, in which Percival had to apologize for scaring him afterwards too.

"I'm sorry," the brunet added suddenly, his voice still soft and low. "It must be tiring for you; having to worry about me on top of everything else, huh?"

The Captain's eyebrows went up at this, not quite knowing how to respond. John thought he was tired of worrying about him? As in…John thought he considered him a burden? No parent _wanted _to worry about their child, but, if you were a _half decent _parent, at the very least, the reason you didn't want to worry about them was because worrying usually meant that something was, in fact, upsetting your kid. So no, Percival didn't _like_ worrying about Jonathan, but it certainly wasn't because he considered him a _burden,_ of all things.

If anything, the lad was the one person who made his burdens feel a bit lighter; who made his burdens just a little bit more bearable. It was Jonathan's presence who helped him tolerate all of the other trials in his life, so the thought that he considered _himself _a trial…

"No," the older man answered at once, his voice filled with undeniable clarity. The brunet looked up at the proclamation, clearly not having expected such certainty, but the Captain was never one to say things he didn't mean either, causing him to realize just how sure of himself he was.

"You're not my burden, Jonathan. You're the person that makes my _actual _burdens bearable. You understand me? Don't forget that, JD. Don't you _ever_ forget that."

_JD. _The nickname given to him by Ben; the nickname that was all but non-existent, Turk being the only one who still referred to him as such. Hearing his initials spill from his father's mouth in the midst of such a heavy declaration reverberated with the young man in a way he could not describe. It was like hearing a song you hadn't heard in years, a song you associated with a string of bittersweet memories, only to hear it again when you least expected it; the memories that came along with that particular tune flooding your mind until everything else around you was pushed away entirely.

Jonathan breathed in slowly, over come with an intense love for the auburn haired pirate before him. More than anything, he wanted to run over to where his father now stood watching, just so he could wrap his arms around him and never let go.

But instead, the brunet stayed right where he was, too afraid of moving and breaking the moment between them.

Until, of course, he realized he'd yet to answer.

"Aye, Captain," he finally said, hoping the sincerity behind his voice was evident.

The older man nodded, thoughts of Jack oddly far away, as he recalled why it was he came down there in the first place. "That pouch of yours has really got me thinking, kid, but before we get into all of that, I really want to have a – God save me – _serious _conversation with you about something; or rather, some_one._"

It took the teen a moment to catch on, but when he did, his curiosity over the situation became more than a little obvious. "Jack?"

The older man nodded, silently liking how eager the brunet sounded upon saying his son's name. "Yeah, kid, Jack. Now you know I'm not one for beating around the bush with this kind of thing, so before I get into what I'm thinking this information of yours means, I should just start out by telling you that Jack Sullivan is my other –"

Without warning, the two pirates were pulled out of their private conversation, the ship taking a violent and unexpected turn towards the starboard side, sending the two of them flying into the wall.

Jonathan, who wasn't at all surprised to feel a stab of pain shoot up his arm from the impact, was definitely surprised to hear the Captain let out a grunt of obvious discomfort. Whatever it was that made the ship take on such a sharp turn must have been _really _bad if it made the Captain –

Another violent shift of the boat sent the two rolling towards the opposite wall. Jonathan, having almost lost his footing all together, was surprised when he felt an arm reach out to steady him. When next the ship stopped rolling, the hard surface he felt was not the vessel's wall, but the chest of the auburn haired pirate.

Captain Percival – the man he considered his father – was giving him a full on, undeniable _hug. _Granted, he was doing it in order to protect him rather than a hug out of unprompted affection, but still! A hug!

Silently thanking whatever made _the Sacred Heart_ go a little crazy, Jonathan wasn't prepared for when Douglas showed up at the top of the stairs, looking down at them with fearful blue eyes and trembling hands.

"C-C-C-Captain P-Percival! S-S-S-S-_STORM!_"

Jonathan blanched, the memory of his _last _storm at sea filling him with a fear he could no longer deny.

_Oh no. _

_**A/N:**__ Cliffhanger, I know, but there've been worse ones, right? Well, not much to say other then that I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Until next time!_


	12. Chapter XII

_**A/N: **__I know. It's Saturday. Not Friday. As in, "I'm late for the third time this story." -face palm- I'm sorry, you guys. Believe me when I say that it's never intentional. Besides the various on-going occurrences that have been making my life just a little bit busier than usual, I'm now in the process of getting ready for a new semester, which starts up again for me this week. Fun stuff, right? (Actually, as far as colleges go, I'm fairly content with mine). Still, the point is this: This update is late and I apologize. That being said, I just want to thank you guys for both your patience and your extremely appreciated reviews. I hope this chapter was worth the wait and that, if you're a reader getting ready for school, I wish you good luck! And if you're not, then allow me to say that I am jealous. lol Enjoy the chapter!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing. _

**Chapter XII:**

_"Get alone for awhile, Citizen. You'll see how the innocent are bound to the damned. What is just is, I know. So we're trapped by answers; love haunts to the end."_

_-Citizen, by Broken Bells-_

"S-S-S-S-_STORM_!"

Not bothering to wait around for a proper response, Mr. Murphy scrambled away from the stairs that looked over them, awkwardly heading back for the main deck.

Another jolt from the storm sent both Percival and Jonathan stumbling over; this particular shift in weight causing the young brunet to break free (though definitely not on purpose) from the older man's hold.

Having landed on all fours, the used-to-be-cabin-boy pushed himself up off the ground, his head swiveling every which way in order to locate the Captain.

The auburn haired pirate was already at the bottom of the stairs; his own gaze locating John's the minute he located his. "C'mon, Jonathan!" he bellowed, the storm already making it harder to hear. "We gotta move!"

It was then that the full intensity of what was really taking place hit the thirteen year old pirate, and God, did it hit him hard.

_"What's going on? What should we do?"_

_ "Move it, boy!"_

_ A flash of lightning. A bolt of panic._

_ "Are we fighting? Are we retreating?"_

_ "'We!' To hell with 'we,' you fool! Every man for himself!"_

_A burst of thunder. A cry of pain._

_ The inevitable realization of on-coming death._

Jonathan shivered where he stood, the lightning bolt that had crashed into _the Fractured Enid _replaying itself in his mind. The memory of his back hitting the water; the memory of him thinking he was going to die…

Since the storm that started it all, a deep seeded fear had rooted itself inside the young brunet's conscious, refusing to let go. It had never really surfaced until now; what with all the storms he had experienced since then only happening when he was firmly on land. He had cringed during every one, but never once had he lost his mobility. Truth be told, for as long as he was with _the Sacred Heart,_ it was a bit of a miracle that this was his first encounter with another storm at sea, but it didn't take away from the fact that he found himself suddenly breathless; the idea of going up on the main deck taking away all rational thought.

Before he knew what was happening, two very large, very familiar hands were placed firmly on his shoulders. The shake that followed after pulled him out of his trance, but the fear – along with the added fear of looking Percival in the eye – only added to his dilemma.

"Look at me."

Jonathan obeyed, the gaze that met him back not at all matching the panicked frustration he felt upon being shaken out of his stupor. They were quiet but searching; calm but sincere. They demanded his full attention without feeding on his vulnerability, which was exactly what Jonathan needed.

And Percival knew it too.

"Listen to me, Jonathan, and listen to me well: That storm – the one that threw you off of _the Fractured Enid –_ was by far the best thing that has ever happened to you."

A spark awoke in the young teen's eyes, not having expected that comment in the slightest. "Captain?"

"I won't sit here and pretend that it wasn't terrifying for you – that it wouldn't have been terrifying for _anyone,_ for that matter – but think about it, John: If that storm hadn't come, who knows where you'd be right now? Probably on _the Fractured Enid_, to be honest with you there. And if they kept on neglecting you to the point of visible malnutrition, which, if you don't remember, you were _very _malnourished upon coming here, then I'm not even sure you'd be –"

It was rare for the Captain to clam up mid-rant, but Jonathan couldn't help but notice the way his lips pressed together in a thin, narrow line; as if whatever realization he just came upon had not been premeditated; had not been one he ever truly thought about until now.

Another blow to the ship sent them spiraling, but when John next hit _the Sacred Heart's _walls, _he _was hit with a realization as well.

One of the worst experiences in his life had led him to the best experience of his life.

The Captain was right: Had it not been for that storm aboard _the Fractured Enid,_ Jonathan would never have found himself on board of _the Sacred Heart._ He would never have met Turk, his long lost brother, or Ben, whose presence he missed every day, or even –

Captain Percival was back on his feet in no time at all, gaze set firmly on the young man before him. "Come on there, Newbie," he said quietly, the storm's rage having ceased for a blissful moment of peace. "We're gonna need ya'."

At this, the brunet's eyes widened. _We? As in, Captain Percival too?_

A bolt of lightning reminded them both of their current situation, but this time, JD didn't hesitate. This time, he took that jolt of fear and used it as a jolt of adrenaline.

Nodding in a way that borderline mirrored his father, the thirteen year old followed Captain Percival up the stairs, ready to face the storm that raged before them all.

**-MV-**

What had been a thirty minute storm felt more like a thirty hour hurricane.

As tempted as he was to lean against the helm rather than steer it, Percival's calloused hands held on strong to the wooden wheel beneath him, ever grateful for _the Sacred Heart's _endurance. Their ship may have not been the most spectacular looking one in the world, but it worked when it damn sure counted.

Having several sails swept away and a chunk from the main mast missing, it took a while before they were able to haul the anchor back in, what with having to replace everything damaged. There were certain reparations that could only be made once they finally made port, but that thought caused another storm entirely to brew inside the older man's mind.

His whole reason for having left those abandoned bodies back at the previous village had been to reach the next one on Hutnik's list quickly, but what now? Yes, the time it would have taken to both gather and bury the dead would have taken considerably longer than the time they spent fighting the storm, but the time they spent saving their sorry asses was still long enough to cause an unwavering stroke of panic to grab him and not let go; it's voice both mocking and unbelieving as it consistently asked, "Will you make it on time?"

Of course, the rest of the crew had no idea he was panicking, even if he could tell a couple of them were thinking it themselves. Well, the ones that were awake, anyway. Christopher, Phillip, Todd, Lonnie and the Big Guy were all still up from the adrenaline rush that the storm had left them with. The other crewmen, however, were exhausted from their battle with mother nature. Percival had granted them time to rest up, though half of them didn't even make it to their hammocks.

One of those pirates being Jonathan.

Quietly peering over his shoulder in order to take another look, the older man watched as his son's chest moved rhythmically up and down, the sight of his slumber allowing him a moment's peace of mind. While the storm had been a chaotic one, Percival couldn't help but notice the closure John received upon not only facing it, but helping them all survive. Except for his reaction upon Doug's initial cry for help, the boy had faced the storm with not only a strong stance, but a strong heart. He had successfully fought off the storm _and _his fear, so that by the time the sails were set and the ship was ready to go, John had really stood out from the rest of the crew; his exhaustion not just coming from the weary remains of the battle, but from a place of acceptance and peace.

Realizing how sickeningly sentimental his thoughts were becoming, the Captain shook his head with a growl, knowing that their current situation was still too up in the air for him to reflect on the man that his son was becoming. He had to focus on the town that was ahead; he had to focus on the devastating but undeniable possibility that the people they were sailing upon could be already gone from this world.

Fortunately, that devastating shock never came.

The crew stirred awake at the Captain's call for anchor, his tone unusually buoyant. When everyone finally came to, it didn't take long for them to understand why.

Still a few miles away from port and they could already tell that they made it on time. It was only when they sailed closer and saw them raise the white flag of surrender on the town's main watchtower did they raise a flag of peace themselves, the jolly roger having scared them away.

"Our apologies." It was the first thing Percival said upon making port, _the Sacred Heart_ firmly docked with the crew still on board. (He had advised them to stay put in order to ease the town's nerves, not wanting to scar them even further). While he successfully maintained an authoritative stance for both his crew and the town to behold, the pain of seeing a _far _too skinny village crowded nervously behind their governor was making his stomach roll with an emotion he very scarcely felt: _sympathy. _"While my crew may not experience this intent of mine on a daily basis, my aim here was not to scare you off."

Suspicion did not fade away from the Governor's wary gaze, his brown eyes still drinking him in. "You talk with unwavering precision. Aren't you a little too _smart _to be a pirate?"

Percival's mouth twitched lightly, noticing the hidden insult before it was even completed. It was true: There were plenty of men who had turned to piracy due to their own laziness; plenty of men who were drawn to their oh-so-wonderful-life by the lore of jewels, wenches, and booze. But after years of being out at sea and meeting _all _lots of their kind, Percival also knew of pirates who were branded as such based off of false accusations, much like himself. They had come from a respectable place in society, and while the older man's definition of what "a respectable place in society" really meant, he met more than his fair share of pirates to know he was not the only one who came from a decent past life. Yes, some of them took to the evils of their world; their bitterness and hatred for the people that put them there outweighing their former logic. But others, much like himself, had not taken to throat cutting or robbing those who couldn't afford to be robbed. Lost treasure was the name of the game, though _the Sacred Heart's _priorities had obviously changed since those times…

Still, this man was not the individual he was going to unload that speech on. After having been pillaged by the Ghost Ship, was it any wonder he thought poorly of them? "I'm a physician," he decided on. "My reasoning for voluntarily taking to piracy – at least this time, anyway – was to help those hit by the Ghost Ship. I have papers from my Governor back home proving my…_innocence."_

Percival could practically _feel _his crew wincing for him, the lot of them knowing how hard it must've been for him to get that last sentence out. However, the town wasn't paying attention. Upon hearing the word "physician," their minds were too overcome with hope to pay much attention to anything else.

It was hard to shock someone like Captain Percival, but when the villagers went from staring at him like he was an ogre to surrounding him with desperate cries and tear stained faces, the older man's eyes went wide.

"Move, the lot of you, move!" The Governor shoved his way through the crowd of villagers that had moved from behind to in front of him in mere seconds, his hand reaching out to shake Percival's. "I'm sorry, Doctor –"

"Doctor Percival, and don't be. Your people are in need of some serious help, after what just happened to you."

The Governor nodded eagerly. "Yes, the famine was horrible. All of our crops –"

"Wait a second…your crops?"

The unnamed Governor nodded. "Of course! Our harvest failed miserably this season, and our physician, already old in age, died in the process. We've sent letters for help to a few of our fellow villages, but none have responded. We've been seeking both a doctor and nourishment for the past several months, eating portions too small to fill a child. If your own Governor sent you, then surely that's why you're here?"

Percival closed his eyes, the realization of what had just been told to him hitting him and hitting him hard. The Ghost Ship had struck that past town, yes, but that same town was probably their last one for a while. They were more than likely at another port entirely; selling their plunder for all they could get.

Still, wherever they were now, they _had _to be close by. In fact…

"Governor –"

"Governor Callahan."

"Governor Callahan: My crew and I will be more than willing to help you and your people, but first, it is imperative that we find a place to talk. Don't panic, but you're in a lot more trouble than you originally thought."

**-MV-**

It was late at night, and for the seventh day in a row, John took to his usual post at the top of the town's watchtower; Captain Percival and Christopher Turk on either side of him.

After bringing the auburn haired pirate to his household, Governor Callahan had listened much more carefully to the Captain's _full _story. It had grieved him terribly to hear of the many deceased towns, especially when he realized _why _the villages he had sent letters for help to never responded… However, after listening to his plan (and admittedly asking to see Governor Corman's seal of approval for a bit of extra reassurance) the Governor had allowed both Percival and his crew to spend as much time as they needed at their humble but beaten abode.

"The plan," Percival had explained to his crew after going over it with the Governor, "Is to stay here until the Ghost Ship arrives. We are to stay up every night – yes, Lonnie every night, _all_ night – until the Ghost Ship comes to rob these people blind."

"But didn't you say we'd be tending to Callahan's people during the day? I'm not complaining about helping them, but the Ghost Ship is clearly a force to be reckoned with. You can't possibly expect us to work all day, the way we would have back home, and still have enough energy to face these monsters head on with little to no sleep under our belts, do you?"

"No, Lonnie, I don't. That's why we're all going to work in shifts during the day, and guess what, ladies? All time spent off will be time spent sleeping. We can't have you in need of your beauty sleep when the Ghost Ship arrives now, can we?"

"Okay, but what if the Ghost Ship –"

A sudden whack to the head shut Lonnie up instantly, his attacker a man who was the second most intimidating from _the Sacred Heart. _"If you complain one more time, I'm going to beat you with poppy's old shilling sock."

Lonnie shot the Captain a look of begrudging apology, to which the older man nodded to the Big Guy who had hit him. "That'll do it," he commented. "Now all of you go on board and run – I repeat, _run _– to the hold. Carry as many crates of medicine and food as you can. These people are in need of some serious assistance."

That had been a week ago, and while it was great to see Callahan's people doing better, Jonathan knew that the Captain was getting anxious when it came to waiting for the Ghost Ship. While he himself wanted to prolong the battle as much as possible, the Captain's grip on his sword was becoming tighter and tighter with each passing day, his need to capture the venomous crew at the forefront of his mind.

"Sometimes I worry that we'll miss them."

The comment was spoken by Turk, whose reflective tone of voice broke the silence that lingered between the three pirates.

"I do too," the Captain answered in a rare act of admission. "They can't just not be seen simply in that they strike at night. There has to be a certain strategy to it all."

"I wish there was a way of knowing; a sign that they were close by."

Jonathan didn't know why the memory hit him the way it did then. For as much as he worried about Jack's connection to the Ghost Ship, he had never given his departure anymore thought after it had actually happened. But now… "Bells," he said suddenly, eyes concentrating hard on the darkened sea ahead.

"Come again there, Newbie?"

"Bells. Listen for the sound of bells."

The Captain, who had been getting ready to ask why, realized upon opening his mouth that he ought to keep it closed. He didn't have to ask to know it had something to do with Jack, and considering the topic of his blood-related son hadn't come up since last week's storm, the older man decided to save the conversation for another time. He'd tell the kid when things calmed down, but right now, they needed to keep a sharp look out for the Ghost Ship.

John peered over at his father, surprised that he had not been questioned on the topic further. While Turk was looking genuinely confused, the Captain seemed almost…_troubled_ by the suggestion. Wanting to comfort him but not really knowing how, John decided not to press the matter further. After all, it would make no sense for the Ghost Ship to sound any kind of alarm upon coming _towards _a town. Still, now that the memory was replaying itself in his head, he couldn't help but suspect that those bells had something to do with the Ghost Ship's hidden strategy.

Wishing more than ever that Ben was around to share his opinion on the matter, John was thrown off guard when the Captain all but sprang to his feet, back having been pressed leniently against the wall of the watchtower. "_There,_" he breathed shakily, the adrenaline rush pouring from every fiber of his being. "It's there."

Jonathan stepped on the surrounding rail, hoisting himself up to get a better look at the ember colored horizon. None of them had any idea what the Ghost Ship was supposed to look like, but if this vessel was not the one they were after, then John's name wasn't, well…John.

While it wasn't what he had expected with a name like "The Ghost Ship" in terms of its haunting appearance, the vessel was undeniably _huge. _Its ability to hold a multitude of treasures, _minus _what was undoubtedly a massive cargo hold, was more than just a little apparent.

The realization that the monstrous vessel was finally in their line of vision started to really settle in on the thirteen-year-old pirate. His flesh erupted into goose bumps as he watched the beast grow closer; the inevitable battle he had been preparing for, for weeks now making him feel like he wasn't prepared at all.

Jonathan looked up towards Captain Percival, whose spyglass was now pressed firmly against his eye. Both he and Turk waited with baited breath; preparing themselves for the Captain's go-ahead to climb down the watchtower in order to meet the rest of the crew. In no way shape or form did they expect the next two words that came out of his mouth instead.

"They stopped."

The brunet could feel his forehead crinkle in confusion, hoping that myth about getting wrinkles early wasn't true. "They stopped?"

Percival quietly handed the spyglass over to Christopher, who, after examining the vessel for himself, handed it over to Jonathan.

It was true. They were close enough to make out the figurehead, but they certainly weren't close enough to successfully make port. What on earth were they doing? It wasn't until John noticed some movement on both sides of the ship did he realize _what,_ exactly, they were up to. "Long boats!" he practically shouted.

The Captain snatched the spyglass back immediately, his knuckles turning white against the instrument.

The lad was right. Long boats, very _large _long boats, were being lowered into the ocean one by one. What made the whole thing stranger was the sight of only one pirate taking to each individual boat. Now why would that be? No, Percival knew the answer. Those boats were not just a means of transportation, but storage devices. Having one pirate per boat meant even _more _boats for carrying back plunder, not to mention more room in the long boat itself for various treasure. And of _course _they were going to use those to make land rather than the vessel itself. Making port was _not _a quiet task. Someone somewhere in the village would have heard a crew that large docking, but a herd of boats slowly but silently tying their boats to the pier? Not so much.

It wasn't until they started sailing towards them – the sight of twenty or so long boats spread out in the shape of a "V" – did Percival notice the tip of said letter at the front; it's boat the only one with two passengers.

One of those pirates was rowing, while the other stood at the front of the vessel; back up straight and head held high.

Their Captain.

He only needed to see the silhouette – the tricorn hat; the long, windblown coat – to know that said pirate was the leader of them all.

"They're coming," he said matter-of-factly, shoving the spyglass into his pocket as he headed for the watchtower's ladder. "Time for battle."

Turk nodded immediately, the fire in his eyes matching the strong determination that dwelled in Percival's stare. Jonathan nodded too, doing his best to mimic the raw courage he saw in both men, but not at all feeling it himself.

_ It'll be okay,_ he told himself quietly. _You're ready for this. You've trained hard; you've gotten better._

_ You don't understand: I'm more scared for the others than I am for myself. _

_ Are you actually saying you're _stronger_ than them?_

_ What? No! But that's…that's exactly why I'm worried._

_ What do you mean?_

_ Because the last big battle we were in…_

_ Yes?_

_ Someone died._

_ Yes…_

_ Ben died._

_ I know…_

_ And Ben was undoubtedly stronger than me._

_ Yes._

_ I can't lose anyone else._

_ I know…_

_ I can't lose my family._

_ I know._

_ I can't lose the Captain._

_ I know…_

Now at the edge of the town's dock, he and the rest of the crew – who had gathered together by the pier upon seeing their Captain's signal – hid themselves where it was the Captain indicated. All of _the Sacred Heart_ was to hide somewhere near the town's edge; somewhere in which they could see both the water and the sight of their leader, who would nod to them when the moment was right. That moment, of course, was whenthe crew of the Ghost Ship was entirely on land. Only then would they come out from all different directions; throwing them off guard and capturing them for good.

John tried not to tremble as his hand hovered over his sword, eyes glued to his Captain for that final and life changing signal.

Having successfully tied their longboats to the pier, the Ghost Ship's silhouettes walked silently towards where they stood hiding, completely unaware of their presence.

And there it was.

_The Sacred Heart's _crew came at them with a thunderous roar, Captain Percival at the head of his men. While the crew of the Ghost Ship was visibly surprised, their swords went up in perfect unison; the lot of them clearly having been trained for an attack.

Jonathan, who had scanned the crew upon seeing them get closer, had already targeted the one closest to his height. He had ignored the little voice at the back of his head; it's insistence on him not really caring who would be easier to fight not at _all _why he chose who he chose…

Letting the rush of the now-or-never battle outweigh his nerves, Jonathan shouted at them too, his sword clashing against the pirate he had targeted before anyone else.

A rush of blonde hair; a shock of blue eyes.

"Jonathan?"

Question answered.

The two pirates stared at one another, dumbfounded. Yes, even though he had known – even though he had picked him out specifically – the sight of his worry turning abruptly into reality left the teen nothing short of speechless.

Muscles still tense at what he assumed would be a heart wrenching battle – what with having to go up against someone he thought he could befriend – the brunet was surprised when the blonde lowered his sword, his look of bewilderment still very much in place. "Are you _insane? _Seriously, kid, what are you doing here? God in heaven, I don't want to fight you, but –"

"Then don't! Listen, Jack –"

"Jack?"

Percival, whose sword had just knocked out yet another raging cutthroat, was now facing the two of them breathlessly; the shock on his expression visible even in the dark.

What was also suddenly visible was the lurking shadow that came up behind him; the outline of a tricorn hat making its way closer and closer to his father's thrown off stance.

"CAPTAIN!"

Percival followed John's outstretched hand, his finger having pointed hurriedly to the pirate coming closer. As though he had never been distracted in the first place, John watched as his father turned around in one, flawless motion, his sword crashing against his attacker's outstretched weapon.

He had expected a fight; had expected a scene that he and the rest of _the Sacred Heart _would talk about victoriously for months. What he didn't expect was for Percival to stop moving all together; his sword pressed against his attacker's in a stance so still, they could have been made of marble.

Through the chaos of the battle and the night's bone chilling air, a question left the lips of one Percival Ulysses Cox; a question so shocked, so mortified, that John would have thought the Ghost Ship much deadlier than ever they expected.

_"Jordan?" _

_**A/N:**__ Until next time._


	13. Chapter XIII

_**IMPORTANT A/N – PLEASE READ: **__Well, according to my calendar, it has been sixteen days since I've posted. I know it's not the end of the world, but I still feel terrible. I could go on and on with apologies, all of which I'd mean sincerely, but instead, I'd like to ask you guys a question. Posting every Friday is going to be near impossible for me at the moment. With school, work, and the newly added apartment shopping, my schedule has become a bit busy. So here is my question to you: Would you rather me post whenever I can or would you rather me stop posting until I'm completely finished with this story? My outline for this fic is currently standing at twenty chapters. With this being the 13__th__ one, my guess is that I'll have this story finished by early to mid November. So…would you rather wait in order to have consistent updates every Friday, or would you rather get these at random the way it's happening this week? My reason for doing this is simple: While it may be near impossible to get these up every Friday, it is not _im_possible. However, if I were to force this out of me amongst the other things I'm currently juggling, the chapters would be really half-assed. I can't do that. I'm a very big supporter of quality over quantity, which I try to imply to my writing as well. While giving you a chapter every Friday is possible, those chapters would not be, in my opinion, very well written. Anyway, the choice is yours. If you could let me know what your opinion is on the matter, I would sincerely appreciate it.  
_

_Well, I think I've rambled on quite enough for one day, don't you? Thank you guys once again for both your patience and incredible feedback. I'm officially shutting up now so that you can read this chapter that I _hope _was worth the wait. Enjoy!  
___

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter XIII: **

_"Murderous crow, hey, what you know? What you reading about? What you hold in your toes? Is that a twig? Are you a dove of peace? A black dove undercover with another puzzle piece."  
-Only Human, by Jason Mraz-_

"_Jordan?"_

Jonathan, who had positioned himself so that he could see both his Captain and the woman's expression, couldn't help but stare at the scene before him in confusion. Percival looked as though his entire world had just come to a screeching and unidentifiable halt, while the woman's blue eyes remained fierce. Conflict raged beneath her gaze as she drank the older man in. Her expression held pseudo indifference as it tried to outweigh genuine surprise, while her grip on her sword became tighter and tighter.

"Who is he, Mom?"

Jonathan turned to Jack in obvious shock, not having seen him walk up to the scene as well. "Your Captain's your mother?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Isn't _your_ Captain_ your_ father?"

John's heart beat nervously at the question, not quite knowing how to answer. Physically, no – Captain Percival was _not _his father. But emotionally? Opening and closing his mouth like a gutted fish, the brunet couldn't seem to form a proper response; not when the Captain – who _had _to have heard the question – wasn't responding himself. His gaze was still stuck on the woman before him, the two of them locked in a voluntary draw.

A draw that was soon to be broken.

Snarling, the dark-haired pirate woke herself up without warning, bringing her arm back to strike the auburn haired physician. The Captain didn't blink. He returned the snarl with undivided vigor, his sword blocking her own as his gaze narrowed viciously. "You are, and always will be, the spawn of Satan, but _tell me_ you are not the Captain of this ship, Jordan, because if you are, then you're not just the Devil's spawn, but the Devil herself."

Jonathan, who had been distracted by another attacking cutthroat, missed the flash of confusion that crossed the mysterious woman's face. It lasted for a mere millisecond; only identifiable to those who knew her well, but it was gone before it could be truly processed; before it could be taken into serious consideration.

Instead, a vindictive smirk splayed out onto her lips; an expression Jonathan caught after having just warded off his attacker.

"If I'm the Devil, then what does that make you? Look at yourself: sword poised high; expression fierce with 'righteous anger.' You don't know me. You never have. You knew just enough though; just enough to know how hard I'd bite if ever you betrayed what very little we had. And yet, despite that, you chose to marry me. You took my hand and all that ceremonial garbage that neither one of us really cared about. You knew how vindictive I could be, yet you succumbed. Not only did you follow me to hell, _Per,_ but you paved the whole way there. If I'm the Devil herself, then you're nothing more than a fallen angel; one who's disillusioned himself into thinking there's hope for redemption. See, I may be a monster, but at least I'm aware of who I am. You're a pirate with black wings just pretending that they're white. And that? Well, _doctor, _that makes you _pathetic._"

Jonathan openly flinched at the growl that emitted from the older man's throat, backing away as the two pirates went at it with unrestrained anger; whatever barriers they had up only moments ago now down entirely.

What _really _made his heart race, however, was the words that had just spilled from this 'Jordan's' mouth.

"_And yet, despite that, you chose to marry me."_

Oh no, _please_ no. Hadn't they been through enough? Hadn't _Captain Percival_ been through enough? All this time, they – _he _– was searching for a black hearted monster. Dead town after dead town; wanting nothing more than to take the captain of the Ghost Ship to the nearest noose with applause, yet now…

"_You took my hand and all that ceremonial garbage that neither one of us really cared about."_

This Jordan, this she-devil; this woman who destroyed countless lives… She was not only the Captain of the Ghost Ship, but Captain Percival's ex-wife. The very same wife that took his three year old son and ran.

Wait a second… If that was his father's ex-wife, then that also meant…

"_Who is he, Mom?"_

No. No way. It just…it wasn't plausible, was it?

But Ben's journal entries… They flooded through the thirteen year olds mind; the dates and content matching the situation to the T. Even Percival's reaction upon finding out the name of who it was that stupid pouch belonged to, and just mere minutes ago, when the older man became distracted upon hearing him call out the Lion Boy's name…

Jonathan turned to Jack, desperately searching for an answer, but when he saw that the older teen's eyes were filled with realization as well, he knew it was true.

Jack Sullivan was Captain Percival's son.

Captain Percival's _real_ son.

Having now restrained most of the Ghost Ship's crew, various members from _the Sacred Heart_ were gathering over to the fight that was taking place; the anger behind each individual thrust calling to attention the emotional weight that the battle really held. Of course, most of the crew was too distracted by the fact that the captain of the dreaded Ghost Ship was actually a woman. Thanks to the Pirates Code of Bartholomew, it was damn near impossible for a woman to make it as a pirate. There were rumors, of course, of those who had surpassed the odds and made a name for themselves out at sea, but to find out that the captain of the Ghost Ship, of all vessels, was actually female? Talk about an unexpected surprise.

Still, if she was giving Captain Percival a hard time, then she had to be pretty damn good, right?

But Jonathan knew better. Sure, the woman could be great; he never fought her, so he didn't really know. What he did know, however, was that it was not her skill that had thrown the auburn haired pirate through a loop, but the fact that he was now fighting his malicious ex-wife; his _real _son watching all the while…

Now near the edge of the dock, both Captain Percival and Captain Sullivan continued to battle it out, their swords echoing through the cold, summer night. One crew – the Ghost Ship's crew – watched on only in that there was no other choice; the crew of _the Sacred Heart _having successfully tied them up. Percival's crew, however, watched on for a whole other reason. While none of them but the brunet knew of the full situation in its entirety, there was an unspoken understanding that this was a fight they were _not _to interfere with.

With their gaze focused entirely on the battle before them, no one missed Jordan take a second-too-late-swing; her sword missing Percival as he put himself in front of the open ocean. No one missed her swinging again, thrown off by his sudden change of location and the fact that she had messed up at all. No one missed the Captain of _the Sacred Heart_ dodging out of the way at the very last second; moving aside so that it was Jordan who fell into the water.

And no one missed the Captain replace his sword with a pistol; something that Jonathan had never seen him use.

Before she could even reach the surface, the gun was aimed directly at where she would rise, its barrel only a few feet away from her forehead when she did. With nowhere to swim and no weapon to swing, Jordan met his gaze with practiced indifference as she bobbed in the water below him; jaw tight with defeat.

"I win," Percival said tightly; his ego remaining unusually calm. "Now get your sorry ass out of the water and onto my ship. We're taking you in."

**-MV-**

It took the rest of the night to both figure out and prepare for the journey back home. Captain Percival was not going to just leave the Ghost Ship – whose actual name was _the Lost Siren_ – at the town to wither and rot. The vessel was extremely well built, and while he didn't know _what _he'd end up using it for, since he wasn't prepared to trade in _the Sacred Heart_ for anything, he figured he could, at the very least, make a good deal of money by selling it to a captain in need. Not only that, but there was just no way _the Sacred Heart_ alone could carry both crews back to his town. They needed one more ship to bring back the lot of them, which made _the Lost Siren_ the perfect candidate.

After Governor Callahan and his people awoke to find the crew of the Ghost Ship tied up, the town bid them a farewell as they watched Captain Percival and his crew load both vessels before departing, wishing them a farewell in turn.

"So who's taking over what ship?" Christopher asked once all members of the Ghost Ship were successfully hauled onto their vessel.

Percival threw the question around his head for a few moments, knowing already what had to be done. He hated the idea of not being on _the Sacred Heart_ in case anything went wrong, but he knew from experience that Christopher, Phillip, and the Big Guy were good at handling it. They wouldn't have a problem trailing them, while Percival would have a serious problem with not knowing what was taking place on _the Lost Siren._ He had to be the one to steer that ship; he had to keep a constant eye out on Jordan and Jack…

Still, he wasn't foolish. He knew he had to bring some of his own crew onto the vessel in order to assist with the various ins and outs that was necessary when sailing a ship. After a few moments of silent contemplation, he decided to leave _the Sacred Heart_ to both Wen and Turk when it came to steering, choosing the Big Guy to come on board with him if any of the Ghost Ship's crew members got out of hand… With _the Sacred Heart _he also left Douglas, Lonnie, and Seymour. Along with the tallest of the crewmembers, he also chose to bring Todd with him as well, mainly in hopes that he would annoy _the Lost Siren's _crew to no end.

"And me?"

Percival could feel his brow furrow at the question; sensing the quiet but detectable frustration that lingered beneath Jonathan's words. He could have just been tired, he knew, what with having stayed up all night for the past seven days, but the question was thrown at him with an undeniable edge. It was asked as if the lad thought he'd forgotten about him. Didn't he know how impossible that was?

Still, he really wasn't sure _where _John would end up. Selfishly, he wanted to bring him aboard _the Lost Siren_ as well. It made him uneasy to have the brunet on a separate ship entirely; unable to make sure he was okay. But in case something _did _go awry on his ex-wife's vessel, Jonathan could very well end up on the receiving end of an unpredicted battle.

"I think it best you stay here with Christopher."

"Why?"

If none of the crewmembers from _the Sacred Heart _noticed the brunet's tone of voice before, then they certainly noticed it now. Several of them turned abruptly towards the scene, shock written on every one of their expressions. The two pirates stood facing each other on the main deck; the youngest of the two trying desperately to hold his ground (what with his hands shaking ever so slightly) while the Captain looked on, momentarily stunned, before returning his gaze with a flick of the nose. "Because I said so," he stated matter-of-factly. "Any more questions there, Johnny?"

Having used the nickname he hated on purpose, Percival watched with undeniable self-loathing as John's eyes morphed from angry to hurt; the two emotions dueling it out until his stare reflected both. Turning quickly on his heel, Jonathan retreated to their hammocks; out of sight from the on-looking crew and his Captain.

Percival watched him leave, scrubbing a hand over his face once he was out of sight. He knew it was just the hormones and lack of sleep that had the kid behaving the way he was, and while it wasn't like the lad had thrown a tantrum, his voice had been edgy enough to raise a few eyebrows. Perhaps it would have been nothing, coming from most people, but from Jonathan, it was a rarity that brought on a certain amount of concern.

"Make sure he gets some sleep," Percival instructed Christopher before departing, his voice low and authoritative. "You know as well as I do it's his hormones, but after a battle like the one we just encountered, I think the kid's pretty exhausted."

"You really think it's that, huh?"

Eyebrows drawn together, Percival opened his mouth in preparation to ask what it was the surgeon was implying. It wasn't until he noticed who it was he was staring it; his gaze having drifted to the blonde haired boy that was comfortably tied up on the ship across the way.

Percival glared at the surgeon, challenging him to say another word. The bald headed pirate just shook his head as he turned back to raising the sails, too tired to get into it.

His mind already in a whirlwind of shattered thoughts and unbridled worries, Captain Percival marched off of _the Sacred Heart_ and onto _the Lost Siren. _He thought of the way Turk looked at his long-lost son; thought of the way he shook his head, almost as if he was disappointed, before returning back to work.

In an attempt to avoid even more drama, Percival had filled his entire crew in on who was who after having successfully tied up the Ghost Ship's crewmembers. He had done this in private, of course, not wanting to reveal himself as Jack's father in front of him if the sixteen-year-old still didn't know. It had been short and brief; most of the crew having already known that Percival had been married with a three year old son before his life of piracy. He had told the lot of them who they were and left it at that, not wanting to get into all of the details.

All of them had been respectful, albeit shocked, when he had shared this news back at Callahan's town. All of them except for Jonathan.

Several times during his speech, Captain Percival had looked towards the brunet, waiting for some kind of visible response from the used-to-be-cabin-boy. Instead, the lad's hands remained deep inside his pockets; gaze turned distractedly towards the ocean as his blue eyes swam with unspoken concern. During that period of uncertainty, the older man had assumed he was just tired. After all, unlike the rest of the crew, Jonathan already knew the full story, what with having told him after Ben died. Granted, he didn't know that Jack was his son until now, but that wasn't the reason for his sudden change of mood, right? He liked Jack, clearly; thought him a good person. The idea of John having any sort of qualms when it came to Jack being his son just didn't make sense.

_It's not that he minds that he's your son, you oblivious jackass. It's the fact that you never _told him _he was your son._

Percival swallowed, his conscious becoming louder and angrier at an alarming rate.

_I tried to tell him though, remember? Before the storm hit, I was getting ready to tell him._

_Oh, bravo, Perry, bravo. What a tremendous job you did at _trying_ to tell him._

The older man sneered. _It's my fault we had to fight off a borderline hurricane?_

_No, but it is your fault that, in the entire week you spent with him waiting for the Ghost Ship to arrive, you didn't sit him down once and explain to him who Jack was. _

Percival combed a hand through his hair, irritated at the voice that berated him. He never meant to _not _tell Jonathan. It wasn't an intentional move. He had planned to tell him, he really had, but he thought he'd do so _after _they captured the Ghost Ship, not having expected to see Jack as a part of their crew.

_But you did a little, didn't you? You wouldn't admit it, of course, but you knew it was an option; the idea that Jack would be there, and because you were too afraid to admit it – you damn coward – Jonathan is now somewhere aboard the Sacred Heart; thinking you couldn't care less. _

_This is not a good time for a lecture. I am currently in the process of boarding a ship that contains both my ex-wife and my son who I haven't seen in thirteen years._

_While your other ship holds the son whose feelings you just voluntarily trampled on. "Johnny," Per? Really?_

"SHUT UP!"

When Percival's demand was met with a bunch of wide eyed pirates, the auburn haired Captain became even angrier upon realizing he had made it aboard _the Lost Siren_ without even realizing it. Grateful that the tied up crewmembers _had _been mumbling amongst themselves, the older man decided to just go with it, having successfully scared them all into shutting the hell up.

Well, most of them, anyway.

"Always had to make a big entrance, didn't you?"

"You too, Wench."

"Don't talk to my mom like that!"

Those of _the Lost Siren _simultaneously cringed. Every one of them had heard rumors about Captain Percival, and while they never knew that _that _Captain had a relationship with _their _Captain, the lot of them knew from the rumors (and from the fact that he had just won against Captain Sullivan, of all people) that he was _not _a man you wanted to yell at.

So it came as a surprise, to say the least, when the auburn haired pirate merely stared back at the teenager; blue eyes filled with something that neither of them could identify.

Percival's stare grazed over the tied up passengers. All of _the Lost Siren_ was wrapped with a rope so thick you could use it to haul the anchor. Their arms had been pressed against their sides; the rope covering their entire torsos. Jack, however, was the only one to be tied against the main mast; his wrists connected with a lighter rope than the others; his arms out behind him so that he couldn't untie it with his teeth. Other than that, his body was completely free.

Of course, it was the Big Guy who had tied him up; Percival having been "too busy" with another one of the crewmembers (yet free enough to instruct him on how he was to treat the sixteen-year-old blonde).

Making to turn towards Jordan's cabin (for what reason, he didn't really know) Percival stopped dead in his tracks when he heard what she had to say next.

"Where's Ben?"

It was the first thing Jordan said that wasn't laced with malice. Her voice remained calm and even; as if she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to see him or not, but whatever little softness that was left in her soul surfaced upon saying his name; her smoldering, black eyes slowly melting into chocolate.

When Percival didn't turn around, he could practically feel his back burning with her stare; her eyes screaming for an answer before her razor sharp tongue could even begin to demand one.

"_Where's Ben?"_ she repeated with a hiss.

Slowly, the older man turned around, ignoring the pain and anxiety that crept up his spine as he did so. When his expression met hers, what happened to Ben became painfully obvious. Jordan's jaw went tight with what she sensed was on its way, her nostrils visibly flaring as Percival remained still. "He's dead," he finally told her. "He died a little over a year ago."

Silence encased the ship as the ocean turned into white noise. If uneasiness was a sound, then _the Lost Siren _was roaring with it.

"Dead," she finally managed, voice thick with suppression. "And how, exactly, did he die?"

Not wanting to beat around the bush any longer, especially given the subject matter, the older man answered her instantly, silently grateful that she was currently tied up. "He died on _the Sacred Heart._ He died fighting as my first mate."

The crew remained still as Jordan's breath hitched audibly, her gaze burning with a red hot hate that seemed extreme, even for her. Finally, she spoke. "I want you to know that what I say next, I mean. From the bottom of the soul you don't believe I have, I want you to know that I mean this with every fiber of my being: I hope you burn in hell, Perry. Do you hear me? I hope you burn in hell."

It wasn't Jordan's actual comment that made the older man cringe, but the implication behind it; the implication that it was _his _fault that Ben had died; a worm infested fear that had kept him up night after night upon the days that followed his first mate's death.

Still… "Don't you _dare_ put this one on me. You could have been there too. You could have stuck around. You didn't want to deal with me anymore? Fine. But I wasn't the only one you left, Jordan. You abandoned Ben just as much as you abandoned me."

"Oh, _please._ How do you think I knew he was with _you?_ You think I didn't ask him to come with me and Jack? But no, he chose _you._ He chose his best friend over his own sister!"

"I take back what I said before," Percival fired off instantly, his hate-filled gaze now completely matching her own. "You want to make me out as the cause of Ben's death, so be it, but don't you even _dream_ of portraying him as the bad guy here, Jordan; don't you even _think _about it. He loved you. He would've died for you. As for why he came with me rather than you? To this day, I have no idea why he volunteered to come with me, I really don't. All I know is that he was the best person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Don't you, of all people, disgrace his character. The one and only good thing I will ever say about you is that you actually did love him, so the very least you can do is not tear apart that one remaining bit of humanity that's left in your shriveled up soul."

This time, when the older man made to storm away, he was stopped by not a question, but a statement. One that would cause him to lose control completely.

"All this talk of me being a devil; at least _I _never killed anyone."

Time stopped, or at least it seemed to for Percival. She had no idea what the full extent of her comment really did to him; had no idea how, to this day, those patients he accidentally killed still haunted him; how breaking his oath by killing Robert Kelso still lingered in his memory.

Of course, he never told her any of that. For all she knew, the older man never killed a soul. For all she knew, Robert Kelso was still living as a physician at _Sacred Heart._ Why her comment _really _infuriated him was the complete hypocrisy behind it; the complete and total untruth that her accusation really held.

Eyes wide with a crazy that he hadn't felt for months, Percival turned around slowly, his gaze meeting Jordan's in a way that only he could get away with. "_What _did you just say?" he demanded. "Have you forgotten why it is you're even _here?_"

The older man was too far gone to see the momentary look of confusion that passed over the brunette woman's face; the look of confusion that was reflected in various crewmembers of _the Lost Siren._ "I've wiped towns clean of their valuables," she answered after a moment, voice still seemingly sure of herself. "Are you really going to stand here and tell me that such a crime is comparable to that of murder?"

The auburn haired pirate clenched his teeth furiously, not able to believe the words that were pouring out of her mouth. "Either you think I'm _really _stupid, or you've had to put yourself through some _serious _denial to believe whatever it was that just spewed out of your mouth. Is stealing worse than killing? Of course. Any jackass could tell you that one. But does stealing a town's valuables so that they have no other choice but to rot away and die _really _not count as murder to you? I don't want to hear your, 'We didn't kill them directly,' crap. You've killed hundreds, Jordan, _hundreds! _I've buried your victims! I've seen rats go at their corpses like you wouldn't believe! And yet you want to sit here and tell me that you've _never killed anyone?_"

It was only here that the Captain noticed a few of _the Lost Siren's _crewmembers exchanging curious looks, but he was too outraged to care. Jordan's own lost expression stared back at him; her brown eyes narrowed in uneasy suspicion. Finally, she spoke, though her answer was not enough to sedate the Captain's fury. "I don't know what you're talking about." Her words came out like ice; cold, hard, and absolutely clear; the certainty behind them driving the older man insane.

"Oh, don't you now? Well then let me show you, _Jordaroo._ Let me show you _exactly_ what kind of devil you are."

**-MV-**

Alone in the lower deck, Jonathan laid down on his hammock; arms behind his head and his gaze set on the ceiling. He couldn't believe he just did what he did. What if something happened to _the Lost Siren _when the Captain was on it? What if…what if the older man died; his last thought of Jonathan a negative one?

Of course, he couldn't believe what Percival did either. How could he have forgotten to tell him that Jack was his son? His _real_ son? And the Johnny thing… Okay, that wasn't as big of a deal as forgoing the mention of who Jack Sullivan really was, but at least he could say that Percival's "forgetting" was probably unintentional. The Johnny thing was just a voluntary blow.

Of course, he had called him out in front of his entire crew; a _very _big no-no. He and Percival had a much closer relationship when compared to the others, but there was a line when it came to their dynamic as Captain and crewmember in comparison to father and son.

The brunet sat up wearily, his anger from earlier dissipating at an alarming rate. Percival didn't deserve what he had done. John was the only crewmember – besides the late Benjamin – who knew of the older man's past. Was it right of him to have not told the thirteen year old about Jack? No. But he, out of all people, should have been the most understanding when it came to Percival's current dilemma. Dealing with the return of his malicious ex-wife and his sixteen-year-old son was hard enough without his _other _son (if he even thought of him that way…) deciding to start a fight.

Craving more than ever to pick up Ben's journal, a thought struck Jonathan as he went to do so; one that made his heart ache even more for Captain Percival.

If Ben was the brother of Percival's ex-wife, then that also meant that the "she" in Ben's journal was Jordan. Of course, that also meant the unthinkable:

It meant that Benjamin and Jordan were siblings.

Well, of course! The connection to the journal had hit him upon first hearing the female Captain's words back at Callahan's village, but for one reason or another, the relationship between those two never really sank in.

Maybe it was because, when Ben had walked into a room, it was almost as if light emitted from his presence, yet when _Jordan _walked into a room, a cloud of on-coming dread had accompanied her; a foreboding shiver that things were about to go awry.

They were ying and yang, no doubt about it, but from Benjamin's entries about_ her,_ John could tell that he truly cared for his sister, and by what little he revealed of her personality, it seemed that she cared for him too.

What would be her reaction when she found out Benjamin had died? What would be her reaction if she found that out from Percival?

Jonathan's heart sank at the thought, knowing how hard it would be for the older man if ever it came up. He didn't know what was going on over on _the Lost Siren_, but more than ever, he wished that he was over there with him; just to be a comfort.

The blue eyed pirate shook his head, bringing himself out of his fantasy. It was foolish to think that him being there would serve as a comfort to Percival. …Right?

Once again reaching out to grab Ben's journal, Jonathan's light was cut off from the small window above him as another ship made its way towards _the Sacred Heart's _side. Not having to see the whole thing to know what vessel it was, the used-to-be-cabin-boy darted up the stairs and onto the main deck, finding the railing closest to the main mast.

His reason for running there was currently looking at Christopher, who was still steering at the helm.

"We're not going back home yet."

The surgeon – along with every other pirate who heard – looked to the Captain in shock. "We're not? Then where are we - ?"

"To the last town; the one before Callahan's."

Christopher's face turned grim with understanding as he gave a curt nod, turning back to the wheel after doing so. Only then did John look back at his father, surprised to find that the older man was looking at him as well.

The brunet instantly looked down at the railing, embarrassed by his earlier mood and not quite knowing how to approach it.

"Doing okay over there, kid?"

John looked back up at the question, relieved by the way he was addressed. It wasn't until he looked closer, however, did his small burst of happiness deflate. The man looked positively worn; his face pale and drawn as he waited for a response from the young brunet. "I'm doing okay," he finally replied. "Are…are you?"

"No."

Such a confession was rare from the older man, but what made it all the more worrisome was how quickly he answered; how plagued his voice sounded when doing so. The physician was exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally, Jonathan could tell he was in need of some serious rejuvenation.

"Sorry," Jonathan muttered sincerely, but the space between them was too wide for him to hear. Maybe he saw it in his eyes, who knows, but Percival nodded in response; a nod that either meant, "It's okay," or, "We'll talk later." Quite possibly both.

Finally having to depart, what with the ships not properly anchored, the vessels went back to their previous formation; _the Sacred Heart _trailing _the Lost Siren _to its next destination in silence.

**-MV-**

The sun was setting when they finally reached the village.

Jonathan, who had been preparing to once again witness the deceased town by playing a silent game of dice with Christopher, jumped a little as Douglas cried out from the crow's nest; alerting them all that the village was in sight. All at once, the crew rose up to make port, darting to where it was they needed to be.

It seemed time went by quicker than Jonathan would have liked; wanting more than anything to never look upon that town again. Still, he understood the Captain's need to go back. Now that they captured the Ghost Ship, or rather, _the Lost Siren,_ it was time to fulfill their promise by going back and burying the dead.

Or at least that's why he _thought_ they were going back.

When the ships were docked and ready to unload, Jonathan was more than just a little surprised to see Captain Percival storm off of the long sought after Ghost Ship, his ex-wife right behind him. His grip pulled at the front of her jacket furiously in order to lead the way, while her arms remained tied against her middle.

From the railing in which he stood watching with the rest of the crew, Jonathan's eyes grew wide as he saw the look of undeniable shock that passed over the brunette woman's face; his earlier theory about the Ghost Ship not having known the destruction they caused more possible than ever.

And then it happened; Captain Sullivan closed her eyes.

She did not shutter, she did not cry, but the very act of not being able to look at those bodies proved to Jonathan not only the answer to his theory, but a fact that he had missed upon witnessing her fight against Percival.

The woman was human.

The gesture, however, did not ease the older man's rage. If anything, it only made it worse.

"Look," he snarled furiously; his demand reaching the ears of those who watched.

When Jordan did not open her eyes, the Captain threw himself in front of her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking them roughly. "OPEN YOUR EYES AND LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID!"

Without a tear or a cringe or whatever else would have fazed the strongest of men, the Captain of the Ghost Ship opened her eyes at once; a forced indifference lurking there as she stared out at the town before her.

"And you say that you never killed anyone? This, Jordan, this was _your _doing. This is the _sixth _town we've found this way; _the sixth!_ And to make matters worse, you used our _son _to help you do this! You made our child _kill! _You are the devil, Jordan. A manipulative, black hearted devil."

Jonathan could merely stare, wide eyed, as he watched Captain Percival storm away; leaving his ex-wife to look out at all she had done.

**_A/N:_**_ As a tribute to my second favorite show on TV, "Dexter," I took a line from the pilot episode and gave it to Percival. His, "OPEN YOUR EYES AND LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID!" is directly from the pilot episode. If you're curious as to how he sounded – at least in my head, anyway – when yelling that to Jordan, type, "Meet Dexter - Start of Season 1 premiere," into YouTube. It'll be the first video to pop up. The clip is nine minutes and thirteen seconds long, so if you want to bypass the rest and just hear the line, the scene where it's said (by the extremely talented Michal C. Hall) starts at three minutes and nineteen seconds in. __(Warning: If you have never heard of Dexter or don't know what it's about, please know that the clip – along with the show itself – is extremely violent. If that is not your cup of tea, I advise you not to watch).__  
Anyway, guys, thank you once again for your undying and highly appreciated patience. If you could do me a huge favor by giving me your opinion on the question I posed in the beginning of this chapter, I would highly appreciate it. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that it was (hopefully) worth the wait. Until next time!_


	14. Chapter XIV

_**A/N: **__Hola, amigos! Well, the votes are in, and in case anybody hasn't seen the mini-update on my profile, it looks like I'll be updating every other Friday. (AKA, no waiting till November). Sound good? Now, as for why I didn't post it yesterday as previously planned, the site has been acting a little out of whack, deciding what updates I can and cannot read in terms of other writers' stories. (And take me seriously when I say how I hate seeing updates in my inbox and not being able to read them). I was going to forgo posting this until it was fixed, but since the site has been on and off, I figured I'd post it for the people who could read it and have it here for those to read once the site is done being jittery. Anyway, before we get into the crux of this author's note (and the chapter, of course) allow me to once again say thank you to all of your highly appreciated feedback. It's extremely encouraging to come home from a long day of work and/or school and see that this story is being enjoyed, so thank you guys, sincerely, and hopefully, the rest of this story will be just as enjoyable. _

_On another note, this chapter is kind of significant to me. Why? Because it's the first chapter since "My Captain" and "My Voyage" to not be entirely read from either Jonathan or Percival's point of view. To signify that, I wrote the "new character's" perspective in the present tense rather than the usual past. Anyway, just thought I'd give you guys a heads up for that one, just in case it threw you off guard. _

_Well, that's it from me. Time to shut up now and let you guys read the chapter. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter XIV:**

_"And when the house was left in shambles, who was there to handle all the broken bits of glass? Was it mom who put my dad out on his ass or the other way around? Well, I'm far too old to care about that now."_

_-Love For A Child, by Jason Mraz-_

Jack doesn't remember much of his father, other than the fact that he had red, curly hair. He vaguely recalls trying to tug on it while he held him with one arm, his free hand gently taking his own and guiding it away from his scalp.

_"No, Jack."_

When he closes his eyes and thinks really, really hard, he can just recall the sound of that mysterious man's voice. It was spoken with authority, and yet the tone used towards him had been soft.

_"No, Jack."_

He was three when he played that little game with him; reach up, pull a curl, be told no. Reach up, pull a curl, be told no. He was also three when he toddled up to his father, sitting on the couch and drinking something he hadn't been able to identify. He honestly can't recall what he said upon seeing him there, but he can recall his mother's reaction; can recall being picked up hastily and the sound of his father's voice as she carried him away.

_"No! Jack!"_

But then there was nothing. As if his father just gave up; as if his father _chose _to let them go.

He recalled that memory long before the legacy of "The Ghost Ship" was born, but what his mother had told him in response to sharing it with her didn't match up with what it was he remembered, so he buried it. He buried it because mom would _never _lie to him; not about something as important as that; not about the father who he could just barely remember.

But after hearing his mother refer to him as the man he married – after seeing the way he looked at both her and even him – the revelation was becoming harder and harder to deny.

"SHUT UP!"

Jack's torn out of his thoughts as Captain Percival – the captain he's heard nothing but good stories about from other pirates amongst various ports – makes his presence known.

"Always had to make a big entrance, didn't you?" his mother replies coolly.

"You too, Wench."

"Don't talk to my mom like that!"

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and if this man – his supposed father – is really the Captain Percival from the legends, then surely he's just signed himself up for trouble.

But all the man does is stare at him. He stares at him with eyes he knows far too well, because oh God, no, they're _his _eyes; the same blue eyes that have stared back at him each and every time he's looked into a mirror. They're a bit darker, as if he's seen far more than he would have liked, but they're his shade of blue; his shade of crazy.

But more than just that, Jack can't help but focus on the tuffs of hair that emerge from underneath his tricorn hat. They're auburn, not red, but he knows it's from age and from living and from seeing far, far too much, and suddenly his hands are twitching – literally twitching – as if they want nothing more than to reach out and tug.

His hands that are tied around the main mast; his hands that just scraped against a broken piece of wood.

Jack doesn't want to come to terms with what he knows he won't be able to deny for much longer. He doesn't want to accept that the Captain Percival he admired so much from those stories is the same man that left both his mother and himself. He doesn't get how someone so lazy and uncaring could be the man in front of him now; he doesn't get why _his_ memory doesn't match up with his mother's, because his mother would never lie to him. So instead of thinking on everything he doesn't want to accept, he starts rubbing wildly against that lone, piece of wood; taking silent pleasure every time he hears a strand of rope give way. He tries not to let the words between his Captain and Jonathan's disturb him too much, because now he's implying that his mother has killed, but that _can't _be the case, because his mother always taught him that killing was the _worst _thing a person could do.

So he keeps on rubbing away; even when Captain Percival and that other ship makes port at a town they've robbed from before; even when he watches the red-headed man grab hold of his mother and drag her off of her own damn vessel. He rubs and he rubs until _snap!_ The rope finally breaks. Everyone's too busy looking at the scene before them, and from what he can hear, he really can't say he blames them.

"OPEN YOUR EYES AND LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID!"

Jack opens the third plank from the main mast's left – where he knows an extra pistol is kept – before running over to where the ship meets the dock.

His arm is poised to kill, even though he knows damn well he won't, but when his eyes meet the scene before him – dead corpses upon dead corpses – the Captain's words about his mother being a monster hit him so hard, it hurts.

Emotionally, mentally and physically _hurts._

So he drags his gaze away from the grotesque scene; just in time to meet the eyes of his fathe – Captain Percival, who has since turned around to climb back on board _the Lost Siren._

His mother's ship.

His lying mother's ship.

He ignores the second thought because no, that can't be right, and continues on with what he planned on saying in the first place. "Let her go or die."

They taste awful, the words he just threw at him, and it's not just because he doesn't sit well with murder, but because he just said it to someone who shouldn't have received them at all. Based on everything he's seen, everything he supposedly knows, this man deserves that threat for treating his mother the way he had, but something about the whole thing just feels wrong – very, _very_ wrong – and it makes that threat taste like poison on his tongue.

"I SAID LET HER GO OR DIE!"

His teeth are bared and his eyes are shining. He hopes they glisten with a venom that screams crazy, but he knows it's something else that makes them gleam.

He watches Captain Percival glance quickly towards his own ship, in which his crew – including Jonathan – watch on, horrified. When one of them goes to take out a pistol of their own, the older man sends him a look that would make even his mother want to run.

Jaw tight with restrained…_something_…Captain Percival nods once before allowing Jordan to walk back on board while his own men walk off. The pirates don't break their gaze once; blue eyes meeting blue for the first time in thirteen years. Once his mother's back on board, Jack knows he should turn and leave, but instead, his free hand reaches out gingerly, his fingers aiming towards those auburn-colored curls.

"No, Jack."

The world becomes fuzzy as tears blur his vision, and oh God, _no._ Jack Sullivan does nee-_hot_ cry.He does _not!_

Swallowing so hard it actually burns, Jack turns to board _the Lost Siren; _leaving behind the man he was told left him behind too.

Revenge isn't as sweet as he thought it would be.

**-MV-**

_The Sacred Heart_ was silent as they watched _the Lost Siren_ prepare to sail away. Jonathan looked over the railing and out at the ship they had worked so hard to find as Jack – Percival's son – went about untying his mother and the rest of the crew. It wasn't until he was ready to turn away, his anxiety over how the Captain was doing outweighing his anxiety over "The Ghost Ship," did he catch the blonde boy's stare.

The blue eyes that looked back at him were undoubtedly inherited by his father. How he hadn't noticed the similarity upon first meeting him, well, he wasn't quite sure, but at least it explained why he'd felt oddly comfortable around him… What really caught him off guard, however, was not the reflection of Percival himself, but the actual emotions that dwelled therein. He had expected to see anger; maybe even a threat or a taunt, but instead, he saw undeniable confusion. His eyes darted wildly to his mother (who was staring out at the sea with a face so blank, he would have thought her statue) and then back to his father – _his _father – who was staring out at nothing as well. Jack never voiced his question, but if the brunet had been forced to give it one, it would have been something like this:

"_Who's lying?"_

Finally, the Lion Boy broke the stare, walking towards the helm and leaving them behind.

John's heart sunk drastically at the sight of their departure. It wasn't just the emotional and physical hell they had been through in order to both find and retain "The Ghost Ship," but the scene he had witnessed only mere moments ago. The sight of _anyone_ pointing a gun at the Captain was frightening enough, but what made the scene so hard to bear was that the person who had threatened him was not just anyone, but the older man's son.

A sharp whistle broke through his thoughts and called him – along with the rest of the crew – over to the helm, where Captain Percival looked absolutely drained.

"What are we going to do n-_now_!"

The question, surprisingly, was voiced by Douglas; the very last person to voluntary speak in such high stressful situations, _especially_ if it was directed towards the Captain. His outspoken query showed the desperation that lingered in the air around them, as all aboard waited for their leader's response.

One thing John did notice, however, was that no one in their crew seemed _angry_ at Percival. It was one of the things he worried about when Christopher pulled out his pistol, only to be shot with one of the most venomous looks he'd ever seen the older man pull. Would they retaliate upon his decision to let both Jack and Jordan go, despite having been threatened with death? (Even if John couldn't bring himself to believe that the sixteen-year-old would have really pulled the trigger…)

However, upon the older man having first walked back on board, the brunet found the crew shooting him looks of sympathy rather than rage. (Which Percival probably hated more, quite frankly, but it eased the young teen's mind all the same).

"What we're not going to do," the Captain answered matter-of-factly, "Is panic."

"How can we not?" Christopher retaliated, confusion evident in his voice. "It took us this long to find them when they _didn't _know we were trailing them. Now that they know we're on our way, they'll be even harder to locate. Who knows where they'll go now for pillaging? Who knows how many more towns they'll destroy before we get to them?"

"If you give me a moment to elaborate, _moron_, I would lee-_hove_ to explain that one to you and whoever else hasn't gotten it yet: I don't know _where _they're going, to be honest, but I do know where they're _not _going, and that, gentlemen, is to another town."

The crew stared up at him, dumbfounded. All except for Jonathan, that is, who was relieved to find out that the older man witnessed what he had as well.

"The She-Devil didn't know what her pillaging had caused. After seeing this town here, she's not going to be raiding anybody anytime soon."

"So where is she going?" Shilling Guy asked then.

"Honestly there, Jumbo? I have no idea."

The crewmembers shuffled their feet anxiously, not quite knowing how to respond. Luckily, none of them had to.

"Big Guy," Percival started up suddenly. "I believe we made a promise, last we were here. Taking into account that _the Lost Siren_ won't be threatening anyone soon, I say it's time to keep our word."

The tallest of them nodded at once, heading towards the dock with his Captain in order to bury the dead.

**-MV-**

Percival sat in the chair at his desk, utterly exhausted from all that had transpired since last night. As if the return of both his ex-wife and his older son wasn't hard enough, he also had to cope with the fact that it was Jordan who had caused all of the destruction he had witnessed over the last…how many months now? It felt like an eternity, really. One drawn out, hell bound eternity.

As horrible as the realization of her being "The Ghost Ship's" captain was, another realization that came soon after helped ease his mind, if only just a little.

He'd been so preoccupied with his anger to notice it right away, but it wasn't until Jordan was passing both he and Jack to once again board _the Lost Siren_ did he notice how positively _pale_ his ex-wife looked. It wasn't until he was back on board _the Sacred Heart, _looking first at the she-devil across the way, did he notice her staring out at nothing. Only then was he finally able to process the look of confusion she first gave him upon mentioning her crimes, not to mention Jack's horrified look upon seeing the town…

Something he _definitely _hadn't planned on happening.

As hypocritical as her comment was about having never murdered anyone, it was becoming more and more obvious that, at least at the time, she thought she'd been telling the truth.

This, of course, fed into his theory about Jordan taking cover, at least for a while. While she was more or less the spawn of Satan, it was looking as though her level of black hearted callousness hadn't increased upon last they saw one another; not if her destruction truly was unintentional. Now that she knew what it was she had done, she wasn't going to be eager to do it again.

Still, it didn't take away from the fact that she had killed thousands,and it _damn_ sure didn't take away from the fact that she had gotten Jack to help her with the dirty work…

Jack… The fact that Percival once thought he'd be unable to recognize him seemed like nothing more than an insane fantasy. The boy was a spitting image of him; at least in the physical sense, anyway. His eyes reflected his own blue orbs; just a bit brighter in terms of his youth, and while his hair had been yellow, the older man just couldn't help but notice how it was slowly turning strawberry-blonde; the length of his hair longer than his own, but definitely, definitely curly.

But where were they now? Jordan and their son... Where were they taking cover?

"Captain?"

The older man almost didn't answer, the image of Jack pointing a gun at his head still painfully fresh in his mind.

If his blood-related son hated him so much, then what was to stop Jonathan from hating him one day as well?

"Captain Percival?"

Scrubbing a hand over his dirt littered face, the older man let out a barely audible, "Come in."

Percival watched with bated breath as the brunet walked into his cabin. When the lad's eyes grazed over the entirety of his demeanor, it was only then that the pirate realized he had not just forgone his hat, but had removed his jacket as well; a rarity for the older man. And by the look John was giving his attire – a simple pair of pants and a white, long sleeved shirt – he couldn't help but wonder how painfully human he appeared.

"You look exhausted."

Percival rubbed a hand over his scruff, realizing he hadn't shaved either.

"I brought you some water. I figured you'd be thirsty after…after burying, well, yeah…"

The physician took the cup that was offered to him, making sure to not make eye contact in case his earlier suspicions were correct. Yes, better to concentrate on where Jack and the She-Devil were hiding instead. Sipping down the cool liquid, the auburn haired pirate went deep within his memory, trying hard to think of a "safe place" Jordan would have gravitated to.

The more he tried to remember, however, the more frustrated he became. He always considered himself fairly good at getting inside the brunette woman's head, and yet now, he couldn't think of one single location that she would turn to. The only other person who knew Jordan better than he did (or _had, _anyway) was Benjamin, but he wasn't around to help him out anymore, was he…

Well, if he couldn't think like Jordan (a terrifying experience, quite frankly) then maybe he just needed to think like a woman. No, that was stupid. Jordan wasn't just some pretty little maiden. She was independent, strong, demanding, intelligent, willful –

Wait a minute… Wasn't there somebody _else_ who could fit that description? Somebody else who matched those characteristics perfectly?

_"Don't be afraid to call on us if any of you need help."_

He never thought he'd take her up on that. Not because he didn't think her competent, but because he truly never thought they'd need to, but now…

Percival shot up from his chair, suddenly quite eager to clean himself up. He had a plan; _they _had a plan, and before Jordan could say, "Spawn of Satan," they'd be on their tail yet again.

**-MV-**

The brunet stood in the middle of the cabin, staring at his father in quiet disbelief as he all but completely ignored him. When he was finally ready to leave, _still _without talking to Jonathan, the thirteen-year-old cleared his throat quietly. "Captain…?"

The older man stopped by his bed post, where he had ventured to reclaim his tricorn hat. Quietly, Captain Percival turned to look at him, his expression unidentifiable. Maybe it would have helped if he had actually _looked-_lookedat him…

"Dinner should be about ready now. Head on down to the galley and I'll be there soon enough."

And just like that, the thirteen-year-old pirate was dismissed.

Jonathan swallowed hard as he closed the door behind him. He had been so worried about the Captain, and how could he not, what with seeing him held at gun point only a few hours ago? His biggest fear upon going into battle with "The Ghost Ship" was that he would lose yet another person he loved; that he would end up losing Percival. He had witnessed that possibility only hours ago, so _of course_ he wanted to spend time with his father. _Of course _he wanted to make sure he was alright. They didn't have to talk about Jack (even though he was still wondering _when _the older man would actually bring that up…) but he just wanted to make sure he was okay; that _they _were okay. But instead, the Captain merely took his cup of water without even making eye contact. He ignored him from the moment he stepped in until the moment he was dismissed. He had treated him like a stranger, like an assistant.

He had treated him like a cabin boy.

Jonathan's fists clenched suddenly at his sides, the pain that was the Captain having not told him about Jack coming back to him all at once. It was only hours ago that he'd forgiven him; had witnessed the exhaustion in the older man's face to know that now was just not the right time, but then when _was _the right time? And even if the Captain didn't want to talk about it now, why did that mean he had to shut him out completely? Was he not important to him anymore? Was he never that important to him in the first place?

Jonathan bit the inside of his mouth as he made his way to their sleeping corridors, heart aching for the comfort that was Ben. He hadn't read his journal since realizing whose it was, but more than ever, he ached to know that he was not alone.

Hopping in his hammock and pulling out the journal, Jonathan opened the book to where he last left off, eager to hear from the former first mate.

_April 13__th__, 1712_

_ I remember opening this book years ago with a frown, wishing I had a better reason for wanting to write that day; the day I thought Governor Corman was going to shut me down. Now, looking back, that trial seems almost laughable. I would have taken that hit if it meant never having to write an entry like this again, but the two don't even compare, do they? No, nothing in my life even comes close to what's happening now, and the sad part is that it's not even happening to me. It's happening to the people I care about most in this world, and I feel as though I've been pushed into a corner; forced to watch their lives fall apart with nothing to offer but my usual self._

_ Percival's procedure, the one I wrote about last time, went really well. The day they woke up and started to progress, I took him to the bar after his shift, excited for both his victory and theirs. But a few days later, when all was supposedly well, his patients started dying. The night of the last patient's death, he came to my house looking not only miserable, but shaken. He didn't say anything for the first hour of being there. He just sort of stared at the wall; as if processing all that had happened. I thought his silent reflection was only on the deaths of those he tried so hard to save, but as I sat across from him at the table, drawing pictures with my mug's condensation, he finally spoke up._

_ "It was Robert, Ben. Robert Kelso. He set me up. He killed those patients."_

_ At first, I thought he was going a little mad. I thought he was just so desperate to have something – some_one_ – to blame this on. But when he looked at me, _really _looked at me, for the first time since coming over, I realized how wrong I was. While his mouth remained closed, his eyes were screaming with the truth behind his words. I asked him how he knew. Not out of disbelief, but so that we could get his boss the punishment he deserved. To kill three lives because he didn't like someone he worked with… How do I even go about elaborating my disgust? But then I was told the full story; how Robert himself came out and told Percival what he'd done. How he'd set it up so that no one would believe him._

_ I thought back to Governor Corman, who had _also_ tried to make it so that the rest of our town wouldn't trust me. "It only worked on a few," I reminded him. "Maybe some will buy into his lies, but not everybody."_

_ It was a naïve thought, I know, because the death of three patients is a lot more serious than an unfulfilled painting, but I wanted to believe it so bad. _

_ So you can imagine how much it hurt to walk around town and hear such horrible rumors about him; how much it hurt to see him take to the bottle while Governor Corman and his men decided what to do._

_ How much it hurt to have his wife – _my sister_ – show up at my door one early Sunday morning; their son sitting half asleep on her hip. _

_ "I'm leaving him." Her face was sketched with cool intensity as she said those three little words. How quickly did she make that decision? Had she been planning to for a while? Did she even know _why _Per was acting the way he was?_

_ When I asked her those questions, her demeanor stayed the same. "Does it matter? All I know now is that he's a bad influence on Jack."_

_ "C'mon," I tried responding casually, hoping our sibling back and forth would soften her just a little. "He's going through a _really_ tough time right now. Jack saw him drinking, okay, but you act like the man is abusive."_

_ "I'm not saying that, Ben. I'm just saying that… Look, I came here to ask you something."_

_ I felt my eyebrows shoot up in pseudo-surprise. Okay, so maybe I was a little surprised, but I wasn't going to assume what I suddenly suspected was on its way; a question that would forever put a rift between us._

_ "I want you to come with me."_

_ I couldn't say anything. I didn't want to. The logical part of my mind berated me for my hesitance. She is my sister, after all. What other possible decision is there?_

_ "We could go to our special place; you, Jack, and I. We could live there. Jack won't mind growing up with an Uncle rather than a father."_

_ "How do you know?"_

_ "Come on, Ben, he's only three. He won't even remember _having _a father."_

_ I wish I could have said something kind before permanently dampening our relationship, but her statement was just so hypocritical when it came to her reason for abandoning Perry, that the comment came out before I could even second guess myself. "He won't remember because he's three? Then why was Jack catching Percival drinking such a big deal if he won't even remember it?"_

_ Her face became tighter and cooler after hearing my query, but she pressed on all the same. "Because he's a bad influence!"_

_ "No, Jordan, he's not. You're right: He should have been more careful when it came to who saw him, but be honest with me, please: you're just looking for an excuse now, aren't you? You've been looking for one for a while..."_

_ I can count on one hand how many times I've seen my sister blush, and believe it or not, the other day was one of those times. _

_ Those moments never last long though; never. With one quick shake of the head, Jordan was back to being Jordan. "Look, are you coming with me or not!"_

_ If someone asked me to describe myself in one word, I would say hopeful. Even in the darkest of times, I've always tried to see that barely visible light. I don't know if that makes much sense, but as I've said before, I'm not a writer._

_ There are times, however, where my optimism splits into two; where I find myself left standing in front of a fork in the road. And while a part of myself ached to go with her – to know that she was safe and to know that she was alright – all I could do was shake my head no. "I'm sorry, Jordan. I can't do that."_

_ It was the first time throughout our entire conversation that she looked like something bad had happened; that she looked genuinely hurt. "Oh?"_

_ "I want you to be safe," I followed up instantly. "I want you to be happy, but you don't…you don't _need_ me to come with you. Someone else might need me though…"_

_ My sister's breath hitched audibly; a rare but identifiable sign that she really was upset, before turning sharply on her heel, Jack waking up by how quickly she moved._

_ Quietly so that she wouldn't notice, I raised my arm and waved goodbye to my nephew. Sleepily, he waved goodbye as well. I swallowed hard as his blue eyes drifted shut and back to sleep, knowing, somehow, that I would never see him again. Yet even then, I had to wonder:_

_ Did Percival even _get _a chance to say goodbye?_

_ "Jordan!"_

_ My sister – my once innocent, baby sister – turned around to look at me. I had planned on asking her once more to stay; had planned on listing a slew of reasons why she should, but instead, I chose to say something else entirely. "Be safe, Jordan. I love you."_

_ It was foggy that morning; the sky raining mist, but in my mind, I like to tell myself that her eyes misted over too; her silent, "I love you," to my goodbye._

_ It was only hours later that I found Percival by the docks. When he saw me, I think he thought he'd officially gone mad. Jordan was still on my mind, but my actual decision about who it was I should go with was no longer a question, but an undeniable truth. I know even Percival, at least at the time, thought I should have gone with Jordan. She is my sister, after all._

_ But what he doesn't get – what neither of them gets – is that while Jordan is my sister, Percival is my brother. I know my sister more than anyone else, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that she'll be okay out there; that she doesn't need me in order to survive. Jack alone will give her a reason to keep on fighting; to keep on waking up every morning._

_ But what reason did Perry have?_

_ I've known that man for years, and it wasn't until I showed up at the docks that day did he abandon all "manhood" and hug me. I've never seen such unbridled affection come from him like that. Don't get me wrong, I've known it was there for years now, but I've never seen him really and honestly show it; never like that._

_ So here I am now; aboard a ship we pillaged just last night, her name the reflection of Percival's past life. _

_ And you know…maybe this entry really isn't just a sad one. Maybe this is the start of something great; of something both of us will genuinely be glad for one day. I know I'm already getting there, anyway, which is what I plan on telling him later, because really – piracy isn't all that bad. Not if you're free of the things that held you down before; not if the ship is your home and the ocean your neighbor. Not if your Captain is a guy like Percival._

Jonathan read the last sentence over and over again, wanting more than anything to drink in all of Benjamin's words. Percival was an amazing Captain, no doubt about it, but was he an amazing Captain who also cared about what happened to him? Or was that spot permanently reserved for Jack?

The growing brunet book marked the page for later, wanting to read it again as a bit of reassurance when it came to the older man's capacity to care. He hated that it was even up for debate; having once been so sure that the auburn haired pirate looked to him like family as well, but his dismal from earlier, along with having been left out in the dark in terms of Jack, was too fresh of a wound to ignore.

A chorus of footsteps startled Jonathan out of his silent reverie. Quickly stashing the book away, the thirteen year old sat up as several of _the Sacred Heart's_ crewmembers dashed down stairs; Christopher being one of them.

"JD! Where were you, buddy?"

"Huh?"

"At dinner? Where were you?"

Oh, right; dinner. "I wasn't hungry..."

Turk gave him a small, questioning look, but whatever he and the others were currently excited about outweighed his initial concern. "Well, you missed a pretty big meal, and I'm not just talking about the food. The Captain announced at dinner that we're going to go see Carla! We're going to go see if she wants to help us find Captain Sullivan! How amazing is that?"

Jonathan smiled, the idea of Carla on board with them an extremely pleasant one, but not enough to mend his worries. "It'll be great."

"You're telling me," the surgeon responded at once. "I'm heading in early tonight to catch up on some sleep before getting there. What about you?"

The brunet momentarily looked towards the stairs, quietly wondering if he should go up to the cabin to explain why he wasn't at dinner first. But instead, weariness took over like a strong wave from the ocean; knocking him down and making him give up the fight. "Yeah, that sounds good. I'm pretty tired too."

The bald headed pirate ruffled his hair amiably, hopping into his own hammock after doing so. "'Night, JD."

It took him a moment to reply; his sudden longing to be sleeping in his father's cabin over taking him all at once. Shaking his head to remind himself that the idea was just a fantasy, the brunet curled into his hammock before finally responding to his friend. "'Night, Turk. I hope you sleep well." Before finally drifting off, Jonathan realized that he had left a part of his sentence out, not wanting to draw attention to the conflict that tugged on his heart.

_'Night, Turk_. _I hope you sleep better than I will._

**-MV-**

Jack stands at the doorway of her cabin, expression grim as he watches her jot down a few words in her journal. "I saved you." The words roll off his tongue before he can stop himself, causing his mother to look up at him, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"You did," she confirms for him, tone laced with just barely detectable discomfort. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, Mom. It's what family does."

A part of him is sincere in saying those words, but a part of him wants his mom to feel guilty; guilty for having done what families shouldn't; for having lied to him on two very important occasions. So when all she does is nod and turn back to her journal, Jack gets angry.

"Wait a minute!"

His mom looks back at him so fast, he actually winces. He can get away with a lot more than the rest of the crew, but no one, nee-hee-hee-_oh_ one, takes that tone with his mom.

"Excuse me, Jack Sullivan, but you will watch your tone. That's no way to address your mother _or _your Captain."

Throwing caution to the wind, Jack's fist clench angrily as adrenaline courses through his veins, giving him that extra push he needs to confront what's been bothering him since _the Lost Siren's _capture.

"If I'm not supposed to talk to you like that because you're my mother, then why didn't you correct me for talking like that to my father?"

The question hangs in the air for longer than Jack anticipated. His mother was never one to beat around the bush, but now, the two of them are locked in an unwavering stare; both pirates tense as their eyes struck the others.

Finally, she speaks. "You saw the way he was with us; you saw how he treated the crew. Why would I stop you from yelling at him?"

"It's not just that," the blonde retorts instantly. "It's not that you let me speak to him the way I did, but the way you let my anger towards him grow; the way you never told me who Captain Percival really was."

"You never asked," she fires back quickly.

"But you knew I was fascinated with him. You knew how enthralled I was with each new story I heard. Every time we made port, every time I heard another, I always saw you twitch at the mention of his name. It never occurred to me why though; it never hit me until now. Why didn't you tell me, Mom? Why did you lie?"

Jack watches his Captain's adam's apple bob ever so slightly, the emotions they both work so hard at suppressing finally coming to the surface.

"I didn't _lie,_" she answers clearly. "You just never asked."

"NOT TRUE!" Jack's fist hits the wall beside him, startling both himself and his mother with a bang. Captain Sullivan shoots up from her seat at the impact, her expression clearly shocked. "_Jack!_"

"You did lie, Mom! You _did!_ I asked you when I was younger; I asked you what happened to my father. You told me _he _left _us. _You told me he never even cared. But that's not true, is it? If the things he was accusing you of earlier holds any validity at all, then none of what you told me was true!"

His mother's arms are crossed sternly in front of her chest, eyes narrowed determinedly. "You're really going to believe him over me? The same man you just held a gun to?"

"I did that in order to find out the truth! In order to get us away long enough to ask you all of these questions. And I did that because…because you're my _mom._ You're my mom and I don't want to see you get hurt."

His Captain's eyes slowly soften at her sixteen-year-old's words, the hint of protective emotion in his tone getting the better of her. "Jack… I didn't withhold the truth from you as a way to trick you. I withheld the truth from you as a way to _protect _you."

"No," the blonde replies without hesitance. "You were trying to protect _yourself._ You thought that if I knew the truth – that _you _were the one to leave _him_ – I would have left you to go after him, but I never would have done that, Mom. I never would have left you."

A look crosses over her face then; as if he hit the nail right on the head; as if someone from her past had chosen Captain Percival over his mother. "You act like because I lied once," she finally starts, "I'm suddenly some –"

"_Once?_" he asks in betrayed hysteria. "We haven't even talked about the biggest lie of them all!"

"Jack Sullivan! You are _not _to interrupt me ever –"

"All of my life, you've taught me that killing was the most horrible crime a person could ever commit, but look at what you've been doing! Look at what you tricked _me _into doing!"

It's those words that cause his mother to adapt a look he's never seen on her before; an emotion he didn't even know she possessed:

Desperation.

"No, Jack, no; that was nevera lie, do you understand me? That was _never _a lie. I didn't know what our pillaging was causing. I didn't know that anyone had died."

The sixteen-year-old blonde is hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion, the emotional turmoil that unfolded in the last twenty-four hours hitting him all at once. "I want to believe that," he responds miserably, the anger in his eyes replaced with mournful disappointment. "But if you've lied to me all my life about something as big as my father, then how can I believe you now?"

Jack turns to leave, but he doesn't miss the look of horrified astonishment that passes over her face. It's the last expression that belongs on her, and he knows it'll haunt him forever, but even that doesn't stop him from making towards the exit.

"Jack? Jack! Where are you going?"

He hates that unfamiliar edge of fear in her voice, but all he can muster is a weary, "I don't know."

Silently, the teenage pirate shuts the door, ignoring the final, "Jack!" he hears on the way out.

He never thought his mother had a weakness. Who knew it was him all along?

_**A/N:**__ I can't really think of anything to say here this time around (shocking, I know) so I'll just stick with this: I hope you guys liked it and I'll see you two Fridays from now. Until next time!_


	15. Chapter XV

_**A/N: **__Hey, guys! I don't really know what to say here other than restating my enormous appreciation of your feedback, so how about I keep this note short for once so that you guys can get to the good stuff. (Or at least I hope it's good, anyway). Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter XV:**

"_It's not my fault, it can't be my fault, that you speak to me the way you do. Now I'm split in two; I'm half me and half you, but I hate us both, don't you?"_

_-Peachy, by Missy Higgins-_

It doesn't take long to reach the pirates' favorite port, for which the used-to-be-cabin-boy was grateful.

Ever since the brunet had been all but ignored by the Captain, the air around them had gotten somewhat…tense. Percival never even bothered to ask why he wasn't there at dinner the night of his announcement. Jonathan wished he had. Jonathan wished he had come up to him, even if it was out of anger for disobeying a direct order, just so they could talk; just so the confrontation could lead to another conversation that _still _needed to be had, but instead, the older man did nothing. That was three days ago, and occasionally, the young brunet could've _sworn _he caught sight of him glancing to where he stood; protective eyes curious as to where he was and how he was doing.

Until the brunet realized that he was probably just imagining it; that he was just seeing what he wanted to see.

So when _the Sacred Heart_ arrived at their favorite port, John all but jumped off the vessel and onto dry land; his legs carrying him immediately to Carla's.

"Jonathan!"

The thirteen-year-old smiled as warm arms enveloped him. Last they embraced, it'd been over a year since their last meeting, and yet the hug they shared now did not differ from the one they shared just a month or so ago.

Maybe that was because Carla didn't expect to see them for another full year…

"What are you doing here?" she asked buoyantly. Before JD could even begin to answer, the Latina's face suddenly turned grim. "Are you okay? Is the _crew _okay?"

It took a moment for the brunet to realize what it was she was indicating, but when he did, he couldn't help but squirm.

The last time they came back so quickly after their departure, it was because Benjamin had died… Since Carla knew that _this time_ they left to face "The Ghost Ship," it was understandable that she thought something similar had occurred, especially given how worried she was over them leaving.

"We're fine," Jonathan answered with a smile, realizing how much of a lie that really was. "I don't think I should tell you why we're here though. I'll leave that to Captain Percival, but –"

"What happened between you and Percival?"

Blue eyes widened in shock as they stared up at the waitress before them. "I…what?" he managed to stutter, her question having thrown him off guard.

Carla shook her head lovingly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Don't lie to me now, Jonathan. I can tell something happened."

"Yeah, but how did you - ?"

"It was the way you said his name. It was tight, somehow; restrained. Certainly not the way it usually is whenever that hard head comes up."

Jonathan tried to laugh at Carla's playful teasing of Percival, but failed. If it was so obvious to her that something was wrong, was it obvious to the rest of the crew too? No, he knew the answer to that. He could tell by the looks he _and _the Captain were receiving over the last couple of days that the tension between them was no longer a secret. The whispering, the quick glances, the occasional, "You okay, buddy?" from Turk. (Not to mention the looks said surgeon kept on sending the Captain's way, his eyes screaming a fiery, "What did you do to my little bear?") Of course, that thought led to another thought; one that only managed to increase John's frustration with the older man in question:

If everyone else could tell that he was clearly upset, then why couldn't the Captain – the man who was supposed to know him best – tell that he was upset too?

"Jonathan?"

The thirteen-year-old shook his head, having been too lost in thought to hear Carla's latest question. When he told her as such, she repeated herself, her voice still laced with gentle patience. "So what happened between you and Percival?"

"I guess we just…lost it."

Carla frowned, while the words themselves sent the lad further down into his emotional spiral. Originally, he hadn't known what he meant by "lost it." It was just the quickest way to tell the waitress what happened without delving into all of the bigger details, but now that the words were out of his mouth, he couldn't help but wonder what _it _was, exactly. Was _it _the way they used to know each other's moods? Was _it _the reliable comfort they used to find at each other's sides?

Or was _it _their relationship in its entirety; the family dynamic between them now nothing more than a memory?

Jonathan swallowed. He had to calm down. He had to relax. He couldn't start crying here all over again; not after the way he made a fool out of himself last time.

Though last time, Captain Percival had found him; had talked to him. If he ran out of the eating establishment tonight, would the physician even notice? Would he even care?

"Carla!"

Jonathan watched as the waitress was swept away by two, inviting arms. The Latina laughed in amusement as Christopher swung her around, their enthusiasm with one another palpable. When the surgeon finally put her down, their hands still laced with one another's, he turned to the on-looking brunet in quiet concern.

"You got off the ship really quick back there. Don't you usually wait for the Captain?"

It wasn't a real question, Jonathan knew. It was a chance for the thirteen-year-old to open up while not being forced into doing so. On any other occasion, he would have taken it, especially since it was Turk, but today… "I was just excited to see Carla again," he lied.

"Well," the surgeon started up, his expression not quite believing it but willing to play along, "I can't say I blame you for that one."

Jonathan, whose loneliness was only multiplying by watching Christopher and Carla cozy up to each other, was getting ready to walk away before being enveloped himself. Two long, slender arms wrapped him into a hug from behind, pulling him against their chest with a tight but highly appreciated squeeze.

"Jonathan!"

The brunet smiled at the familiar voice, forgoing his pain from the last time he was there and thinking instead of his time in her home. "Elliot," he replied warmly. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she answered quickly, pulling away from him to brush off some flour from her apron. "Just busy, that's all. Sean's ship got into a bit of a wreck last time he went out fishing."

"What happened?" he asked curiously.

"Well, he was fishing near the rocks, you know, when he said something under his ship sort of lurched and threw him forward. _I _think it was a wave, but does he? Oh, no, not him. His ship is in need of some serious repairs, yet he couldn't be happier. Why? Because he thinks it was a leviathan. I swear to you, Jonathan, that man is something else entirely."

The brunet grinned. It was hard for him to think positively in terms of Sean, seeing how he was with the woman of his dreams, but at the same time, Elliot was clearly happy with him, despite her latest tangent. "How's Abigail?" he asked suddenly.

At these words, Elliot stopped fixing her hair to gaze lovingly at JD; a look in her eyes that he couldn't quite place. "She's wonderful," she answered genuinely. "It's sweet of you to ask. I'm sure if Abigail could talk, she'd say the same thing."

Jonathan smiled.

"Anyway," the waitress continued, "Since Sean can only fish by the docks now, he's been at home taking care of her recently. I've been picking up as many extra shifts as I can in order to help pay for his repairs, and he's been fishing like a mad man for the same reason. Not to mention having money in order to eat every night…"

Jonathan cringed, thinking back to when he lived with both his mother and his brother. He definitely knew what that was like…

"So what are you doing back at port?" the blonde woman asked eagerly. "We didn't expect to hear back from you so soon. I mean, we _hoped _we would, but –"

"Can it, Princess. We're here to see Carla."

The two turned around abruptly, not having seen Captain Percival walk through the doors. For the older man's sake, the thirteen-year-old pirate was glad to see he'd shaved, having noticed how he didn't even bother to over the last couple of days. He opened his mouth to greet him, only to stop himself before doing so. No. The Captain would only look at him like he was crazy. Or even worse: he wouldn't look at him at all.

"I'm here," Carla gestured from the bar, "but talking's not going to happen if you keep on calling my girls, 'Princess.'"

"I don't call '_your girls'_ Princess. I call _Blondie_ Princess."

The dark-haired waitress just rolled her eyes, but a smile was definitely playing on her lips. "Hola, Capitán Percival," she finally greeted. "¿Qué quieres?"

When he took a moment to answer, both the blonde and the brunet assumed he didn't understand her language. (They didn't, anyway). But instead, as always, he ended up surprising them both.

"Su ayuda."

**-MV-**

It didn't take long to get Carla to agree to come with them, especially after hearing the whole story… Laverne, who had given her the position of head waitress in the first place, was more than glad to cover for her, just so long as she promised to return in one piece.

It did take a bit longer, however, to convince Captain Percival to let _another _woman come aboard…

"NO!"

"Captain…"

"_NO!_ Carla, are you _insane?_"

"Okay, first of all? You do _not_ yell at me. Second of all? I am not the one with the crazy blue eyes right now, so no, I'm not insane. You, on the other hand…"

"But Carla, listen to what it is you're _asking._ This is Blondie we're talking about; _Blondie!_"

"Her name, _Ulysses_, is Elliot, and can we please drop the whole, 'I don't like her!' charade!"

"I _don't_ like her."

"Maybe not, but you do _respect_ her, to a certain degree. Plus, I think you do like her a little bit…"

"She's not my favorite person in the world."

"I didn't say she had to be."

The older man crossed his arms and flicked his nose, but not before letting out an aggravated _huff_. "Why should I let Blon- _Elliot_ on board?"

"Because her family's in a really bad way right now, and her not being there will be one less mouth to feed. Plus, Sean's out of a job, so he'll be around to take care of Abigail."

"You do know she's not getting paid to come with us, right? Nothing about her coming will help fix that moron's ship."

"Yes, she knows, but Elliot and Sean have _a lot _of books; something that's very hard for the general public to afford. We're bound to stop at a few ports here and there, and if she can trade some of those books in for money…"

Inhaling deeply through his nose, the older man closed his eyes and grit his teeth; one of his large, calloused hands meeting his forehead with a pinch. "Look, Carla… I wouldn't damn the girl to hell or anything, but you can't expect me to sail this woman around in the midst of doing what we're trying to do. This is a serious thing we're going up against; this _Lost Siren_ of hers. You can't possibly expect Barboo to know how to go against _Jor_daroo when we find her, do you?"

"Actually, I do, since Elliot also knows how to handle a sword."

It was the last thing Percival was expecting to hear, but when her words penetrated his frustration, he opened his eyes in visible astonishment. "_What?_"

"How do you think Sean survives out on those waters when he's asking random pirates if they've ever seen a leviathan? You know more than anyone that not all sailors are particularly keen on having some lone ship come up to them. He has to know how to protect himself, and over time, he's taught Elliot to do the same.

"Come on, Captain Percival… You know as well as I do that I wouldn't suggest that she come if I thought we'd be holding her hand the whole way. I know the importance of this situation; I know that 'importance' doesn't even cover it, but believe it or not, Elliot is a truly capable woman. I know it doesn't always seem that way, but believe me…she is."

It wasn't too long after said conversation that the auburn haired pirate invited both of the women onboard. Jonathan was surprised to find himself getting a little choked up upon seeing Elliot hug both Sean and Abigail goodbye. It wasn't the jealousy in him that had his eyes stinging, but the genuine and untainted sympathy that was a family having to divide.

Now, hours later, the brunet found himself lying in the quiet of his hammock, having finally given up finding comfort on the main deck. He was glad the girls had joined them, he really was. It was just that, now, he was feeling more alone than ever. Turk and Carla were too busy with each other, leaving little to zero time for him to talk to his best friend. And while Elliot seemed to have more time on her hands than her fellow waitress, confiding in her about anything still felt a little awkward, given his now revealed feelings.

Of course, who he _really_ wanted to talk to was the Captain, but considering his main problem for wanting to talk to someone was because the Captain wouldn't talk to _him,_ well…he knew that wasn't happening any time soon…

Knowing of only one friend who always managed to be there for him, Jonathan had slipped down into their sleeping corridors and back into his hammock, heart aching for more of Benjamin's comforting, bittersweet words.

Eager to begin reading, the teen didn't waste any time in removing the journal from its hold; opening up its pages to where he last left off.

_June 24__th__, 1712_

_It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, I suppose it hasn't been too long in comparison to my previous gaps in writing, but I must confess: I thought I'd be confiding in you a lot more than when I was back on land. That being said, it feels great to have a moment where I can really sit down and write._

_So much has happened in the course of two months. We've picked up a couple of crewmembers (though I doubt they'll be staying with us too long, since most of them, apparently, are more drunkards than they are sailors) and have gotten into our first encounter with another pirate ship. It's nothing to be excited about, I know, but there was something…comical about it. While fighting, I couldn't help but laugh at the fact that, only just a little over two months ago, I was a painter and Percival was a physician. He noticed me grinning when we were hauling the cutthroats' treasures onto our ship. When he asked me what I was laughing at, I just shook my head and laughed a little harder, and do you know what happened next?_

_Percival grinned back._

_Honest to God, it made my day. I haven't seen that man crack a smile since everything happened the way it did._

_However, the battle did make us think of something important; something that all pirates need to have if they're to survive out on these waters._

_A safe place. A location amongst pirates where a weapon can never be drawn._

_We've recently gotten word of a port that actually welcomes our lot, and while it does sound pretty brilliant, the Captain is hesitant to travel that far for what he thinks is too good to be true. Even if that town does exist though, it's not a "safe place" in so far as battles are concerned. A pirate can just as easily turn on another, just as the navy can turn on a pirate, so we need a place that will only be used in the direst of circumstances; a place where no weapon can be drawn._

_I knew where it should be; this place where no pirates can duel, but it hurt me just to think about it. Still, it's only been two months since she left. If we found her there, if we saw her… Could we go back to the way we once were? Could the two of them somehow reconcile?_

_I didn't tell him the significance of it; a rarity, for me, since I'm usually quite open with him, but I just couldn't bring myself to share. It was _our _place; hers and mine. My father took us there when we were kids, having been both an explorer and a fisherman himself. He found the place on a trip and chose to share it with us when he returned. It was special to us; both of us. It didn't surprise me when Jordan suggested us going there when first showing up at my door two months ago. If I was in her position, I would have gone there too._

_So you can understand when I say that it pained me; to walk off our ship and see no trace of her and Jack. It's quite possible that she was there, at one point, but if she was, she left nothing of her presence behind. I knew it was a possibility, of course; that she wouldn't be there by the time we came upon it, but God, had I hoped… _

_I stood there on the beach for a long moment, waiting for Percival and the rest of the crew to come join me. I was glad for it though, that moment alone. I couldn't help but replay all the memories of us being there together; Jordan, myself, and my father, but of course, mainly Jordan. I could almost see her up ahead; her five year old self running toward me with a sharp, spunky smile._

_When I was pulled out of my past by a familiar hand on my shoulder, Percival and I went about setting up the plaque; a slab of marble we purchased with the treasure we plundered last month. We engraved the purpose of the island and the rules that followed, going on to say that any passerby who disobeyed them would be cursed. We had to snicker at that part. Per-Per and I don't believe in that sort of thing, but one thing we've already learned out here is this: Nine out of ten times, if you mention that something is cursed, a pirate will pay _a lot _more attention to what it is you have to say._

_Only a few weeks have passed since then, and we're already hearing word of an "island of peace." Some believe it, some don't, which I guess is a good thing, when you think about it. The point is that those who _do _believe in its existence are treating it as it should be treated – as my father would have wanted it to be treated: a place of peace and unity._

_But hey, what do I know? I'm a pirate now. Should I really be talking about things like tranquility and tolerance?_

_You better believe it._

There were a lot of things Jonathan felt after having read the entry; sympathy for Ben, curiosity about the old _Sacred Heart's_ crew, the sudden longing to see both the Captain and the former first mate as younger versions of themselves, sailing around the world as "newbie" pirates. But what really tugged at his memory was the island in which they both sailed to; the one that Benjamin had often visited with Jordan and his father growing up. The brunet turned back to the last entry, just to confirm what Ben had said and to help confirm his own suspicions as well.

_"We could go to our special place; you, Jack, and I. We could live there. Jack won't mind growing up with an Uncle rather than a father."_

Their special place… Benjamin said that she and Jack weren't there when first he showed up, but was it possible…

Was it possible that they were there now?

Jonathan chewed worriedly on the inside of his lip, his anxiety quickly bubbling to the surface. If the Captain was right, if she really was staying low instead of targeting more towns, then wasn't it possible, nay, _probable_, that she was on that island right now? While Jonathan didn't know every little detail about their relationship, it seemed the older man was good in terms of getting inside her head. And yet, for as much as he knew her, he couldn't think of where she would have gone. Didn't that only add to the notion that that's where she might've turned to, since Ben never told the Captain about how he knew of the island?

Even though it was just a theory, the brunet learned from his last few contemplations that keeping revelations like that to himself really wasn't a good idea… It would be best to tell the Captain what he knew.

Of course, telling the Captain also meant telling him how _he_ knew, which would require telling him about Ben's journal…

Jonathan took a shaky breath, clutching the leather bound item and pressing it to his chest lovingly. He had no idea how the Captain would react upon finding out about his former first mate's treasure, but he knew he had to tell him. Besides, he _really_ wanted to talk to him. Perhaps this was just the thing they needed to break the tension between them and start behaving like they used to.

With that in mind, Jonathan climbed out of his hammock and onto the stairs that led to the main deck, Benjamin's journal stashed securely under his arm.

**-MV-**

It was odd to be knocking on the Captain's door again. In retrospect, it hadn't been _that _long since last he visited him, but having gone from comfortably talking every day to not making eye contact in almost a week now, well… He wasn't surprised when his hand started shaking upon bringing it to the door.

Almost instantly, the entrance flew open with a resounding _crack_ in the air. Jonathan tried not to jump as the demanding figure that was his Captain hovered in the doorway above him. When his eyes met his, however, the intimidation in the air changed instantly to uncomfortable…what? The two of them were clearly at a loss for words, having not talked in what felt like several months, but there was something else in the air upon meeting each other's eyes.

Hope, maybe?

"Come in," Percival said calmly, his tone carefully indifferent.

Jonathan obeyed, stepping into the cabin he missed so much – with the _Captain_ he missed so much – in order to share his recent findings.

Percival took a seat at his desk, turning his chair outwards so that he was facing Jonathan. When the brunet did not follow his lead by taking a seat on the end of his bed, the older man frowned. "What's wrong?"

Jonathan swallowed. Oh, God, this was heartbreaking. The Captain was Benjamin's best friend, so he knew receiving his journal would be either very painful or very bittersweet. For the physician's sake, he really hoped it was the latter. "I…I found something. Something that'll help us find Captain Sullivan."

"You can just call her Jordan, Newbie."

Jonathan cringed at the nickname. It very rarely bothered him, but after not talking for a number of days, he wished Percival could have at least managed to call him by his first name… "Okay… Well, I found something that can…something that can help us."

Percival raised an eyebrow. "Well, what is it?"

God, he really wasn't making this any easier for him, was he? Trying not to let his emotions get the best of him, the thirteen-year-old continued. "Remember…remember that island you and Ben picked out? The one where pirates aren't allowed to fight?"

A look crossed over the older man's face; a flash in his eyes of both remembrance and obvious confusion. "Yes… Did I tell you about that?"

It wasn't a real question, Jonathan knew. The Captain's memory was _extremely_ sharp. All he was trying to do now was figure out where he learned that information from. "No," he answered without really answering. "But, um…I think that's where Captain Sull- Jordan's heading."

The younger pirate watched as the hand resting on Percival's desk clenched and unclenched itself; a sign that he was processing what was just told to him. "That can't be," he finally answered, his tone matter-of-fact. "Jordan didn't know of that island's existence, though I suppose she would have heard of it by now, since God only knows how long she's been pirating herself…"

Jonathan swallowed, doing his best not to tremble. It would have been easy to let the Captain think that's how she knew, but he had to tell him the truth. It felt as though the relationship between them was disintegrating before his eyes, so if he could bring trust back into the picture by sharing with him what he knew, maybe, _hopefully,_ he could revitalize it. Besides, letting him in on why that place was special to Jordan would only add to his theory about her being there. "She knew of it before turning to piracy," he answered quickly, the hesitance in his voice obvious as he tried to get it out all at once. "She knew about it since she was five."

The Captain's frown turned into a deeper, long-lasting stare as he took Jonathan in, the wheels in his head visibly turning. "John," he finally exhaled, "What in God's name are you talking about?"

"I read it in Ben's journal," the brunet finally blurted. "I found it in our sleeping corridors and read it. He talks about it in one of the entries; about the first time the two of you went there. He suggested that island because it was a place where he and Jordan went during their childhood, and in the entry before that, he said that Jordan wanted to take him there when she…when she did what she did to you. I think that's where she is, Captain. I think that's where she's going."

Anything could have happened then, all of which Jonathan was expecting. The Captain could have reacted instantly, marching out to the deck in order to tell Christopher where to sail. He could have thanked John for the information, their reconciliation with one another outweighing his immediate need to tell the crew. He could have taken a moment to ask for the journal, in which he reflected upon the memory of Ben much like he had himself.

But the one reaction John _didn't_ expect was the one reaction he got.

_Anger._

"When?"

The brunet tried not to cringe as he realized the older man's frown had morphed slowly into that of a glare. He would have answered his question, or rather, _his_ _command_, had it not confused him so much. "'When?' I –"

"_When_, Newbie? When did you find it? How long have you been reading it?"

The brunet winced at the obvious restraint in the older man's tone, not being able to understand why he was so mad. "N-Not long after we set sail. I found it downstairs one night, just by mistake. It wasn't, I mean…I wasn't out looking for it. I didn't even know whose it was when I first started, but –"

"But you read it anyway. And what happened when you _did _find out it was Benjamin's journal?"

"I…I kept on reading. It's just…I really –"

Captain Percival was up from his seat now, hands crossed firmly over his chest as he went about lecturing the teenager. "You should have given it to me the _minute_ you found out. You went behind my back _and _Ben's by reading his journal. That's _his_ journal, Jonathan; his _journal._ You read his most intimate thoughts for God only _knows_ how long now, and for what, entertainment?"

Jonathan blinked in astonishment, blue eyes wide with the accusation that was just thrown at him. _Entertainment?_

The older man's eyes flashed to the leather bound book tucked securely under his arm. "Give it to me, John; _now._ You are not to read his journal anymore."

It was those words that set something off in the thirteen-year-old pirate; those words that made him realize once and for all what had really been bothering him over the last several days; what had been bothering him since realizing that Jack was Percival's son.

Losing Ben had been one of the most painful experiences he ever had to endure, but while it was definitely one of the hardest, it certainly wasn't the only person in his life he had lost. First, there was his father – his _real_ father – who passed away long before he ever stepped foot onto _the Fractured Enid._ Then there was his mother and brother, who passed away before he could even tell them he was alright.

Then, of course, there were the people he lost metaphorically. First, there was Elliot. While he was lucky enough to have her in his life, it would never be in the way that he wanted, that painful and humiliating realization having made him feel like he lost a part of her for good. Then there was Christopher, who he knew he would _eventually_ lose. It was happening as they spoke; the love between Turk and Carla growing. Jonathan was losing his best friend to yet another person he considered his family, which would inevitably lead to him losing Carla as well.

Then, of course, there was Captain Percival; the realization that he was losing him the most painful realization of them all. He was the one person that Jonathan thought he'd _never _lose; the one person he thought would always be there for him, no matter what. Yet, ever since the return of his _real_ son (who he sort of felt like he lost himself, having once thought they could be friends) Jonathan was nothing more than a thing of the past; a distant memory that the Captain seemed completely disinterested in regaining.

And yet, through all of those losses, Jonathan was blessed with Ben's journal; the memory – no… the _company _of the former first mate keeping him sane and comforting him. Even in death, Ben never left him. He was still there, trying to keep him safe; trying to protect him and guide him and teach him.

And now that was all being taken away. Now that was all being taken away by the _Captain._

Now, Jonathan would have no one.

It was extremely rare when Jonathan found himself angry; really, _truly _angry. It was even rarer when his fear shifted so drastically into resentment, his blue eyes that had been both wide and shaken now looking up to the man before him with unbridled hostility. "FINE!" he spit out angrily, taking the journal and throwing it at the older man's chest. "Maybe you can read it when I'm gone, or better yet, maybe you can read it with _JACK!"_

Percival caught it in complete and utter shock, clearly not having expected the brunet's reaction as well. "JONATHAN!"

"NO!" He didn't even know why he was shouting anymore. All he knew was that none of this would have happened if they had not left for sea again. If Governor Corman and all of his selfish greed had just left them alone, he and Captain Percival would be back in their quiet little town. Maybe they'd be sitting by the fireplace in their house together, either reading in comfortable silence or talking about a patient or two. Maybe they'd be in Sacred Heart – _the real_ Sacred Heart – helping out their neighbors and making sure everyone stayed healthy. Maybe they'd be by the docks reflecting on their first meeting; when Percival really cared about his well-being and when Jonathan still believed he'd always be there.

The exact location didn't matter. All that mattered was that they'd still be _together. _Had it not been for returning to piracy, had it not been for his decision to set sail again, the two of them would never have met Jordan _or _Jack. They'd be back in their little town, happy and content. They'd be back to how they once were; a time that felt like ages ago.

A time where they were still father and son.

"I HATE THIS!" Jonathan shouted angrily, stamping his foot into the ground for emphasis. "I hate this stupid ship, I hate being out at sea again, and I hate that we're not at home. I hate this, I hate this, I HATE this!"

And without thinking any further, Jonathan marched out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him and not looking back.

_**A/N: **__I really don't know what to say here, so how about a fun fact? I watched an interview in which John C. McGinley was asked what other profession besides his own he would like to attempt, and he answered with stone mason. That being said, I got a kick out of writing Captain Percival working with marble on the island, but maybe that's just because I'm a huge nerd. lol Anyway, that's about it from me. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter (despite that kind of rough ending…) and I'll see you all on the 22__nd__. Until next time!_

**Spanish to English translation: **

"Hola, Capitán Percival. Qué quieres?" _Hello, Captain Percival. __What do you want?_

"Su ayuda." _Your help._


	16. Chapter XVI

_**A/N: **__SURPRISE! Okay, that was probably a little uncalled for, but I am happy to be posting a bit earlier than usual, all the same. If you're wondering why, however, allow me to explain what happened here for a moment: Basically, I'm an idiot. Remember in my last author's note when I said I'd be posting on the 22__nd__? I don't know what was going through my head when I wrote that, but this weekend my brother's getting married (out of state) which means I won't be here on the 22__nd__ and through the 24__th__. So, when I realized I wasn't going to be able to update on Friday, I tried to get this sucker done on time in order to post it before leaving, and wa-la: new chapter. That being said, thank you guys so much for all of the feedback you've given me so far. It means more to me than I can express via the internet, but please know that I really and truly appreciate it.  
_

_On a fairly random note, I just want to take a quick moment to say happy-almost-birthday to __**Jesssss**__, whose birthday is on the 22__nd__ as well. :)  
_

_Anyway, that's about it from me. I hope you all have a good weekend, and of course, I hope you enjoy the chapter!  
_

_**Disclaimer: **__I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter XVI:**

"_You belong with me, not swallowed in the sea."  
-Swallowed In The Sea, by Coldplay-_

It was a long time before Captain Percival did anything. All he could do for the first several minutes was simply stare at the door before him, the book in his hand all but forgotten.

Over the last few days, he and Jonathan had barely communicated. He knew something was bothering him, he knew, and while he _suspected _that a lot of it had to do with Jack, he didn't think the lad's worries were so severe; that his _anger _was so severe. He tried checking up on him every once in a while; glancing over to where he stood just to make sure he was doing okay, but whenever John managed to look back, the older man would quickly avert his eyes, not wanting to invade on the boy's privacy if he was still working things out.

But that was stupid; that was the _exact opposite_ of how he and Jonathan worked. When the teenager was upset, he _wanted_ Percival to invade. He _wanted_ the Captain to pick and poke and prod and ask what was wrong until he got his answer.

He wanted to see that he cared.

The older man knew it was true, to such an extent he couldn't even deny. He'd just been so distracted with the return of Jordan and Jack; his thoughts so skewed and so scattered that he was just barely keeping track of what day it was. And then, _just _as he was thinking of approaching the boy himself, the lad walked into his cabin; a mysterious book tucked securely under his arm…

Captain Percival closed his eyes in quiet restraint, replaying the scene that had just taken place over and over again in his mind. He had no idea why he got so defensive over hearing about Ben's journal. He hadn't meant to. It wasn't premeditated. Maybe a part of it was just his usual need to look out for Ben returning to the surface. Maybe a part of it was learning that Ben had known something about that island – had carried a private burden by himself – that he hadn't chosen to share with him. Maybe a part of it was that he never even knew Ben _kept _a journal to begin with…

Either way, he had snapped at the last person who deserved it, and more surprising than that, _Jonathan_ had snapped _back._

_His_ Jonathan.

Placing the journal on the desk, Percival pulled out a bottle of rum from one of the drawers, sitting on the edge of the bed after doing so. Jonathan's outcry still rang vividly in his ears, his numerous, "I hate this!" still screaming in his head. He knew what it was that Jonathan really said; knew that he said, "this" rather than, "you," but it was the only thing he could manage to focus on; the hidden message that lingered behind the thirteen-year-olds words.

_I hate you._

Uncorking the lid, Percival threw back the bottle and downed all the rum he could manage; allowing the world to turn black as he did so.

He had failed with Jack, and now, he had failed with Jonathan. Something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

**-MV-**

It was the smell of familiarity that eventually woke the man up.

Captain Percival clenched his eyes shut, expecting his brain to be pulsing from a combination of strong guilt and rum. It wasn't too long after that, however, did he realize that his head was surprisingly clear. Still, he didn't want to open his eyes; not yet, anyway. Five more minutes of being somebody other than Percival Cox. Five more minutes of being somebody other than the person who Jonathan now hated.

But the longer he laid in bed (still fully dressed in his attire, having passed out drunk before properly going to sleep) the more the smell of paint flooded his nose; it's scent making him reminisce on the one person who would be able to help him in this situation; the one person who he ever called friend.

Swallowing down a mouth full of regret, the older man pulled himself up and into a sitting position; eyes still downcast and drowsy from however long he was out.

"Morning, Per-Bear!"

Blue eyes widened at the greeting, while calloused hands instinctively clenched beside him. It just…no; _no!_ It just wasn't possible! And it's not that he didn't want it to be. Oh dear God, he would have given _anything_ for that greeting to have made sense, but it couldn't be, it couldn't. It was why he couldn't bring himself to look up. Not yet, anyway. He knew that when he did, no one would be there, and he would have to swallow down the truth for the millionth time over and God – wasn't he dealing with _enough _already?

"I was going to go with orange, but your hair's not _that _bright, so I'm thinking of mixing the brown in there a bit, just to get that perfect shade of auburn."

"I told you never to paint me." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Percival cringed, gearing up for what was inevitably going to happen. No one would answer his latest comment. No one would respond. He would look up to find himself alone in the room, the smell of paint never there to begin with.

"I know, but how could I resist? You were sleeping, remember? I definitely wasn't going to wake you up, so I thought, 'Why not?' Besides, there's not much you can do to get back at me anymore, when you think about it. I think that'd go under the category of 'physical impossibility.'"

Drawing in a shaky gust of breath, the older man looked up slowly; blue eyes meeting blue for the first time in over two years.

There, sitting at his desk with a somehow required canvas, Benjamin Sullivan sat smiling; his blue eyes sparkling with a look that was sorely and unashamedly missed. "Hi, Perry," he greeted sincerely.

Percival swallowed, doing his best to ignore the tears he felt stinging at the back of his eyes. "Hi, Ben."

**-MV-**

Jonathan sat in the far off corner of their sleeping corridors, not wanting to be found by anyone. His arms wrapped around his legs as his face remained buried in his knees, the tears non-stop since allowing himself to cry.

After yelling at the Captain the way he had, the boy had marched out and onto the main deck; the adrenaline rush from what had transpired leaving him breathless and disoriented. It wasn't until his eyes caught sight of the Jolly Rodger flying; the mid afternoon wind making it wave to all who watched on. He'd seen it so, so many times before, but it was today – having just stepped out of the Captain's room – did he suddenly remember walking out of that cabin for the first time in his life; when his eyes first connected to the Jolly Rodger, causing him to pass out and drop into the older man's arms.

He didn't know why the memory hit him the way it did, but when the recollection flooded his mind, he pushed past those who looked on and ran down to their corridors, where the gravity of what he'd just done – of what he'd just _said_ – hit him all at once.

The confusion and anger still pulled at his heart, along with the feeling of abandonment, but with those feelings came another one he just couldn't bring himself to ignore.

_Guilt._

It clawed at his conscious like a rabid animal, meshing with the loneliness that had caused his initial outburst. And if that wasn't enough, it was only then, as he sat there crying, did he remember a comment made to him – a confession cut off midway through – that he hadn't remembered before yelling at Captain Percival.

The last time they sparred together; their conversation right before _the Sacred Heart _was hit by that storm…

"_That pouch of yours has really got me thinking, kid, but before we get into all of that, I really want to have a – God save me – serious conversation with you about something; or rather, someone." _

"_Jack?" _

_ "Yeah, kid, Jack. Now you know I'm not one for beating around the bush with this kind of thing, so before I get into what I'm thinking this information of yours means, I should just start out by telling you that Jack Sullivan is my other –"_

Jonathan's chest shook with a multitude of sobs, his face now drenched in tears, as he realized the significance that said memory really held. It was more than just the fact that Captain Percival really _had_ tried to tell him, at one point or another, but what he had been getting ready to say before the storm cut the two of them off was what really shook John to his core.

_"Jack Sullivan is my other –"_

There was no doubt what Percival had been getting ready to say; no doubt as to what the older man had been getting ready to confess.

_Jack Sullivan is my other son._

"Other," as in, "I have another son."

"I have another son," as in, "You."

Jonathan shook violently, his sobs overtaking his entire body. He didn't know what to think anymore; he didn't even know how to feel. All he knew was that Captain Percival really _had _thought of him as his son, and not just from before _the Sacred Heart_ went out to sea again, but even upon realizing his real son was back; even after realizing that Jack was alive and well.

Percival had never stopped thinking of Jonathan as his child.

But now he would. Now he _definitely _would. The feeling of abandonment was still alive and well, and unfortunately, John had expressed that anger with the older man in a way he could never take back. If Percival ever thought of him as his son, then he knew his outburst had demolished whatever feelings the Captain once held for him.

After all, how did one go about _un-_burning bridges?

"Jonathan…?"

The brunet bit down on his lip; _hard._ He didn't want anyone to see him like this; he didn't want anyone to feel bad for him when he knew this was all of his fault.

"Jonathan…? Sweetie?"

Oh, God, that voice. How could he resist the voice of a woman born to mother? The type of person he had craved for all his life?

Bringing in his legs even tighter, as if the gesture would honestly make him invisible, the thirteen-year-old pirate tried to ignore the shadow now hovering over him; still not sure as to whether or not he wanted to be seen.

Silently, the woman in question sat down on the floorboards, next to where the young pirate sat shaking. Her hand found its way to his brown, disheveled locks, where it went about combing there lightly. "Jonathan," Carla whispered, voice laced with patience and warmth, "What's wrong?"

And that's when the boy finally caved.

The brunet all but dived into her arms; his head suddenly nestled in the warmth that was her lap. "I RUINED EVERYTHING!" he cried miserably, his chest heaving sobs as his shoulders shook from his tears. "I thought he didn't love me anymore; I thought he didn't want me. You should have seen him when I tried to bring him water, Carla. He ignored me completely! I just wanted to have _us _back; I wanted us to be okay and happy and how we were back when I was still…when I was still his _son,_ but now I ruined that because I didn't get that he was just stressed and I didn't remember him trying to tell me about Jack and I didn't think things through when he got mad about Ben's journal, because I miss Ben _so much, _Carla. I miss him so much! It wasn't entertainment, I swear! I just wanted some company; I wanted Ben back! But I wanted the Captain back too; so, _so_ much, which is why it hurt so _damn _bad when he took him from me, because I thought I was losing them _both!_ The way I lost my real father and my real mother and my real brother; the way I lost Elliot and Turk and the way I'm losing you too! I'm losing everybody and there's nothing I can do about it!"

Jonathan continued to sob as the waitress' hand traced small, soothing circles onto his back. It wasn't until his tears turned to the occasional sniffle that she finally spoke up. "I don't know all the details, but I'm guessing you told the Captain what you just told me, only…angrier."

The brunet nodded miserably into her lap, eyes closed shut to the world.

"And you think, because you got mad and yelled, that the Captain won't love you anymore? That you two are no longer family?"

The thirteen-year-old sniffed, trying to focus on her words. Well, when she phrased it like that…

"Jonathan… You're not losing Percival any time soon. You're not losing _any _of us anytime soon. I don't know the future. I don't know when our time on this earth will end, but I _do_ know that no one on this ship will voluntarily choose to leave you."

"But you don't understand," Jonathan finally managed, "I said some _really_ awful things to him. I said I hated this ship!" Just saying it out loud made the teen choke up all over again. Oh, God, how on earth could he have said that? _Him?_ Hate _the Sacred Heart?_ It was the farthest thing from the truth, but he'd just gotten so angry and confused and –

"You were upset," Carla answered back calmly. "People say some hurtful things when they're upset, even to the people they love most in this world. And most of the time… Well, most of the time, we don't even mean what it is that we say; not when you're as angry as you said you were."

"But I yelled at him for wanting to be with his son; his _real_ son. I got mad over the Captain wanting to reconcile with a person who he hasn't seen in thirteen years. It was so stupid. It was so selfish. I just got jealous and scared and I –"

"You yelled at him, yes. And you know what? You shouldn't have done that. But do you know what else? He shouldn't have ignored you these past couple of days either. But you and the Captain are family, Jonathan, as all of us on this ship are. You have a bond stronger than some blood-related families I've seen; a bond stronger than many, admirable relationships that I've witnessed, but with that new found family also comes some disagreements; some arguments. It doesn't mean you stop being family though. It doesn't mean you just stop loving each other."

Jonathan sniffled, drinking in everything that was being told to him. He hated to admit it, having never been able to properly say goodbye, but he had never felt as close to his real family as he had to his family on _the Sacred Heart_; as he had to Captain Percival. And yet, even when his family fought – even when they did some really horrible things – they never just stopped loving each other. It certainly wasn't the ideal environment to grow up in, but the one thing that remained consistent for the first eleven years of his life was that his family _had _loved each other, even if they weren't always the best at showing it… So if his real family had managed to not give up on one another – had managed to hold on to those almost invisible, slivers of love – couldn't he and the Captain handle what they were going through now?

"I never thought I'd be a part of this family, you know…"

John, whose eyes had been closed, opened them up upon hearing the waitress' words.

"I've known Captain Percival for years now. I loved both him and Benjamin like brothers, and while it was clear they saw me as family, I never really felt…_integrated,_ I suppose. I got to see them once, maybe twice, a year. My time with them was special, but brief, and before I knew it, they were off again.

"I guess a part of my longing, though I never would have admitted it at the time, was that I didn't have much in the way of family. My mother died years ago and my brother, well… We used to get along wonderfully, but then he joined the Navy and…I'm sure you can fill in the rest for yourself…

"But then Christopher joined the crew, and every time they made port, I noticed their stay was becoming longer and longer. I think part of it was due to the Captain himself. The way he looked at me was…changing, I think, though I can confidently say that he's back to viewing me as family and family alone. But that's a whole other matter… Anyway, yes – when Christopher joined the crew, I couldn't believe Percival had taken such man-child like him on board, until I realized that boyish charm of his was the very same thing I was falling in love with.

"After that, they started coming back more and more often. Percival would seek me out for entirely different reasons than Christopher, but in both circumstances, there was a certain bond their; something I missed deeply when they set sail yet again.

"But even amidst our growing relationship, I never thought I'd be welcomed aboard this vessel. Not because I wasn't welcomed from a strictly personal point of view, but because, well… I had my job and they had theirs. We lived two separate lives that, on rare, anticipated occasions, would mesh into one for about a week's time, and then the cycle would continue...

"When the Captain asked me on board this time, I honestly couldn't believe it. For the first time since knowing them, I felt like I was going to be _truly_ brought into this family; truly a part of this group of people I cared for. And now, suddenly, Christopher and I are closer than ever; so much so that we're thinking of making things permanent…"

Jonathan's eyes widened at her latest remark, his fear about losing both Carla and Turk returning to the surface. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for them. He truly and honestly was. But once Christopher and Carla got married –

"If we do marry, I'm moving back to that town with you; the one where you and the rest of the crew lived for the past year."

Jonathan turned on his back, head still in her lap, so that he could look directly into her eyes. He'd never seen her look the way she did now; skirt replaced with pants, her tight, pink blouse replaced by a bigger, cotton white one, and her hair – usually down and untouched – now pulled back into a tight, well done braid; it's length meeting at the base of her spine.

She looked like a full fledged pirate; the strong, independent woman he always saw in her.

And yet, from what she was saying now, her ability to be both strong and independent didn't define her as a person. While she was more than capable of standing on her own two feet, she still _wanted_ the company of those she cared for and loved. She still wanted to be surrounded by those who she'd do anything for, and by the sound of what she was saying and the attire she had so suddenly adapted, it looked liked Carla really _would_ do anything for those she considered her family.

"It's one of the reasons I wanted Elliot to accompany us too, because over the years, she's become _my _family, and while I would never force her into anything, I wanted to give her this option; I wanted her to see these people she's come to care for as well, so that maybe, if Christopher and I do end up settling in your town, Elliot and her family would end up moving there too."

Jonathan nodded, still staring into the sincerity that glowed in Carla's chocolate brown orbs. For as much as he was paying attention to her words – which he really, truly was – he still couldn't quite place why she was telling him all of this to begin with.

"Don't you see, Jonathan? Our relationships are constantly growing – constantly changing – but the one thing that has never changed over the years is how much we care about each other. I thought I wasn't integrated because I wasn't on this ship, but now that I am, I can tell that it was never an 'Out of sight, out of mind,' situation. I'm here, I'm a part of all this now, and because of that, we're getting closer, but I was never _abandoned. _Even before everything happened the way it did, it's clear to me now that, whether I'm back at the restaurant or scrubbing the main deck, I'm still just as loved and important to them as I have been since the beginning.

"What's happening between Turk and I now won't push you out of the picture. This family – _our _family – will become closer because of it. You'll be just as loved as you've always been, the same way you'll be just as loved if the Captain reconciles with his son; his _other _son. You won't be left out of this, Jonathan. You won't be forgotten."

Jonathan closed his eyes, the message behind Carla's words penetrating his worries and calming him down, if only for a moment. "Thank you, Carla."

The Latina woman smiled. "Any time, Sweetie. You just say the word."

**-MV-**

Silence encased them both as Percival stared, unblinking, at his former first mate. Did he really just wake up with Benjamin in his room? Was his best friend really sitting at his desk, painting a 'moment caught in time,' as he so often used to refer to them? "You're dead." For the first time since his death, Percival spoke of his first mate's passing in a matter-of-fact-esque tone; one that silently questioned if his latest remark was true.

Of course, Ben being Ben, the comment didn't faze him in the least. "Yup!" he answered enthusiastically. "Dead as a drunken dog. Speaking of which, how'd you sleep?"

Percival scowled while his first mate chuckled, silently loving the sound that was his best friend's laughter.

"Benjamin," he started again, savoring the feel of saying his name in order to address him, rather than saying it in mourning, "Why, I mean…what _are _you? Why are you even here?"

The older man watched as the brunet tapped his chin with his paintbrush, bottom lip stuck out as his eyebrows creased in contemplation. "Hmmm… What _am_ I? Well, last I checked, my name was still Benjamin, but as to what I _am, _now, that's a good question! Oh! I know! Maybe I'm a ghost! OoOoOoOoh!"

Percival tried not to grin as his first mate held up his hands and wiggled his fingers, mouth shaped in a small 'O' as he performed his impression of a spirit.

"Charming," the older man muttered.

Benjamin laughed and, much to the older man's surprise, Percival laughed as well. It started out small; a few chuckles that escaped him to accompany Ben's buoyant hilarity, but then, as he felt his own walls breaking down, the Captain began to laugh harder and harder, his arms actually circling his sides in order to contain his amusement.

And oh God, it felt so damn _good; _the two of them laughing themselves into hysterics like they used to long ago; the two of them laughing until their mouths and stomachs hurt; until tears escaped their eyes and rolled down their cheeks in painfully missed comradely.

When the laughter finally died down, the Captain was lying on his back; expression bright with amusement as he wiped a stray tear from his eye. "You are, and have always been, wa-_hay_ too much there, Benji."

The first mate merely chuckled. "You better believe it!"

A comfortable silence followed his proclamation, until, that is, Ben decided to do what he rarely did when he was alive: Get serious.

"I never answered your other question, you know; the one about why I'm here."

Percival remained silent as his gaze shifted towards Benjamin, who was looking at him with obvious concern. "And?" he finally managed.

"And you should know that I'm here because you, my friend, are in need of some serious help."

The older man pulled himself up into a sitting position, bringing his hand to the bridge of his nose in order to massage there roughly. "You're telling me," he muttered. "I don't know what to do, Ben, I really don't, and as you very well know, I'm not _used _to not knowing what to do."

Benjamin smiled. "Do you want to come see what I've painted so far?"

Percival, who had been expecting a different response, opened his eyes in bewilderment. "What?"

The first mate nodded him over; smile still present as the older man pulled himself off of the bed. The Captain's eyes couldn't help but widen when he finally reached where he sat; when he finally saw the canvas he had been painting on. When Benjamin was still alive, he never wanted to be painted. The idea always made him feel awkward, and whenever he _would _catch Ben trying to paint him, he made sure to put an end to it, telling the brunet to find a model that was actually willing.

But now, as he looked at the way Ben captured him, he wished he had let him every time he tried. It wasn't an ego thing, surprisingly enough. It wasn't the sight of himself that made him think, 'master piece.' It was the emotions he caught there that he thought were so well hidden; his art shining a light on the Captain that was rarely perceived by others.

"I look…peaceful. Surprisingly peaceful for how I fell asleep earlier…"

Benjamin nodded. "You weren't that calm when I came here. You were muttering in your sleep and shifting every which way. It was…a little depressing, actually, so I decided to draw you how you'll fall asleep later tonight; peaceful and content."

Percival turned to him sharply, taken aback by his recent confession. "How I'll fall asleep tonight? Ben, how do you –"

"You didn't have to yell at Jonathan, Perry. I understand why you did, and a part of me actually appreciates it, but I was serious when I told you not to worry about him reading it; I was serious when I told _him_ to read it."

The older man could merely blink at the first mate's latest words, clearly not having anticipated them. "I… Wait a second, what - ?"

Benjamin smiled, standing up from his chair for the first time since his visit. Percival flinched as his hands reached out for him; the artist's palms placing themselves on either side of the Captain's head. "Benjamin, what - ?"

"Relax," he said softly. "Close your eyes and breathe, okay? It's me, Perry. I'm not going to do anything to hurt you."

Inhaling slowly, Percival allowed himself to close his eyes and breathe, reminding himself over and over again that it was for his former first mate. The more he relaxed, however, the less aware he became of Ben's presence. The sudden realization almost startled him out of his trance, until the first mate made himself known. "I'm still here," he said quietly. "Just breathe."

Percival did, and suddenly, he was out on the main deck with Jonathan. The night was cool and comforting, but the brunet looked awkward and ashamed. There were sails by his feet that were in the process of being stitched, and the older man was wondering what was wrong. Jonathan was clearly avoiding something; a truth he'd yet to tell him, but when he went to ask what that was, a voice flooded his conscious; one that was comforting rather than foreboding.

"_Let it go."_

Percival's eyes snapped open at once, the realization of what he just remembered shaking him to his very core. "You…"

"If you found my journal first, you would have known it was me from the first sentence in, and because you're a good friend, you would have stopped reading it. You never would have gotten to the entry about Jordan and me. You never would have known about that island being special to her, and because of that, you never would have known where to find her and Jack. Jonathan needed to find it; he needed to read it and understand. And more than just the entry itself, he needed to understand that he wasn't alone. I would never mislead him into doing something unethical, Perry, that much I can promise you. I hate that I'm not around to take care of him with you, so let me do my part from where I am, okay?"

The Captain's blue eyes were wide with astonishment, his adams apple bobbing from a string of suppressed emotions. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real! It went against everything he ever believed in; the idea that someone, even after death, could honestly, honestly –

Two arms embraced him in a way he'd never been held before. No, that wasn't true. When he was first branded a pirate; when Benjamin first showed up at the docks… That was the only time in his life he could remember being held the way he was being held now, and oh God, he didn't want it to stop. He _hated_ the way it left him feeling; vulnerable, weak,_ human. _But it was Benjamin he was talking about here, and somehow, someway, it had always been okay to feel that way around Benji.

"I miss you, Big Guy," the artist said while hugging him, his embrace becoming tighter and tighter. "Take care of Jonathan. No, scratch that. _Keep_ taking care of Jonathan. You've been doing an amazing job."

Percival's fists clenched and unclenched, his arms un-deciding about returning the artist's embrace. When the brunet squeezed just a little harder, the older man could no longer help himself. Without thinking, the Captain's arms flew up and hugged him back; calloused hands clinging to the cotton of Ben's shirt. "I messed up, Benjamin. I messed up _big time. _The kid hates me now like you wouldn't believe. You should've been there. You should've seen him. The things he said –"

"Are normal things for a thirteen-year-old to say," Ben cut in quietly, his voice laced with reassurance. "He's _thirteen,_ Percival. _Thirteen._ He's going to get angry sometimes, but the last thing that kid feels for you, the last thing Jonathan will _ever _feel towards you, is hate."

"But Jordan and Jack –"

"Are back, yes. The question is –" Here, Benjamin pulled away, allowing himself to look directly into his former Captain and best friend's eyes. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," Percival answered truthfully. "I was sort of hoping you'd tell me."

The older man watched as Benjamin's famous grin slipped back onto his expression, taking it in like a long lost treasure he never thought he'd find again. "Sorry, Per-Ber," he finally answered. "That's just something I'm not allowed to do."

Suddenly, Ben's hands were back against his temples; his palms much softer, much warmer, than he remembered them being. Percival found himself drained of all energy at the contact, sitting back down on the bed before he could stop himself. Vision blurring over, the older man tried to focus in on the feel of his first mate's palms, reassuring himself that he wasn't gone yet. Still, he was just so damn _tired_… "Crazy voodoo," Percival mumbled drowsily, his head almost too heavy to keep up.

Above him, the artist laughed buoyantly, steadying Percival's weight so that he wouldn't fall down to the floor. "It's not voodoo, I promise. It's just, you know…the way it has to be…"

The Captain shuttered, the tone in Ben's voice alerting him that something was about to transpire; something that neither of them would like. "Miss you," he managed to mumble, his eyes too heavy to keep open.

"I miss you too, Perry. Trust me, I really do. It's time to go back to sleep now though, okay? It's time to let it happen."

"I don't want to."

"You have to."

"You can't make me."

"I can."

"I…it's…"

"Perry?"

"It's all the way…with the…with the…"

Benjamin chuckled. "Let it happen, Per-Per."

"It's not…"

"Let it happen."

Percival didn't know when he actually listened; he didn't know when he ended up falling asleep. All he knew was that when he woke up – a bottle of empty rum on his nightstand and a headache that could slay a giant – Benjamin was no longer in the room, leaving the older man to do something he hadn't done since his best friend's death.

Cry.

**-MV-**

Out on the main deck, Jonathan set up his hammock, not wanting to sleep beside where Ben's journal once took residence. The empty space just made him think of how he'd lost the first mate – _again_ – and how, thanks to his little tantrum, he probably lost the Captain.

Lying on his back and looking up at the stars, Jonathan couldn't help but reflect on the last time he slept out there. It was the night of Ben's passing, when someone had placed him in the hammock when he was unconscious. He had woken up, hours later, to find the ship anchored and eerily quiet. Without realizing it, he had gravitated towards the railing in which Ben took his final bow, only to find the Captain staring out and into the water as well…

Thinking it was the memory that caused him to look up at the railing, Jonathan couldn't help but gasp as he noticed he was not alone. As if mirroring his silent contemplation, Captain Percival stood at the very same spot he'd been dwelling on; eyes visibly mournful.

Jonathan shifted about nervously, not really knowing what to do. More than anything, he wanted to run over there and apologize, but what good would that do if Carla ended up being wrong? What good would that do if he really _had _burnt that bridge? Besides, the Captain was clearly in the midst of something important; the look on his face showing him that he was lost deep in thought. It wasn't improbable to say that he didn't even see him there, watching him from his place beside the wheel.

"Sometimes, I find myself waiting for him to pop back up. Even after all this time, my mind will drift off and, for two seconds, I think it's a possibility; that Benjamin's just playing a really elongated prank."

Jonathan swallowed, the Captain's confession tugging at his heart strings and making him wish, more than ever, that he had not yelled at him the way he had earlier.

Having drifted off for a moment, Jonathan tried not to jump when he focused back in on the Captain, only to find that he was staring at him; blue eyes sincere as he took the young teen in.

"Come here, Jonathan."

Slowly, cautiously, the brunet got up from his hammock and walked to where the Captain still stood; eyes now set on the ocean laid before him.

"Sometimes I get too caught up in the memory of the people I've lost. Benjamin, Jordan, Jack…"

Jonathan winced at the last name on his list, his anxiety growing at an alarming rate. Oh, God, what had he done? What was the Captain getting ready to tell him now?

"And sometimes," the older man repeated, "Sometimes, I get so caught up in their memory that I lose sight of the people I have with me now."

Jonathan looked up at Percival, completely taken aback, as the words left his mouth and hit his listening ears. The Captain was not a sentimental man. Such words were rare from him; words that, when uttered, he did not take lightly. The Captain never said anything he didn't mean, so when the full meaning of what he was trying to tell him really managed to fill his understanding, all Jonathan could do was try not to tremble; hoping, _praying_, that he was interpreting his words correctly.

Thankfully, the Captain didn't make him guess.

Suddenly, the older man was crouched down; his body having turned towards Jonathan so that he could meet him at his level. The brunet stared, misty eyed, into the blue eyes that stared right back; the sincerity behind his gaze unmistakable.

"I love you," The Captain said abruptly. It was an admission that Jonathan had known for a while now, but never in his life thought he'd actually hear. "I don't know what's going to happen now that Jordan and Jack are back, but I can tell you this, Jonathan; I can tell you this with absolute certainty: If, by some miracle, Jack does become a part of our lives, you are not going anywhere. Do you hear me, John? You are my _son,_ and I won't let anyone take you away from me. Not a soul."

When tears blurred his vision so that he could no longer see, Jonathan threw himself at the auburn haired pirate, wrapping his arms securely around his outstretched neck. "I'm sorry!" he bawled, his father's embrace becoming soaked with tears. "I don't hate this ship and I don't hate the sea and I don't hate that we're here and I don't even hate Jack! I just got so mad and so scared and I just…I just…"

"You got angry. You yelled. It's going to happen sometimes, Jonathan. You're a good kid; a _really _good kid, but no one expects you to never get angry. You're thirteen there, Jonathan. It's normal. What you did back there was…it was normal, and quite frankly, I should have expected it."

Jonathan wiped his nose with the end of his sleeve, stepping back so that the Captain could see how sincere he was when saying what he said next. "But I didn't _mean_ those things," he sniffled openly. "I didn't mean any of it."

"I know," the older man replied. "The same way I didn't mean what I said about Ben's journal being entertainment for you."

Jonathan looked down to the floor, feet shifting awkwardly as he remembered the accusation thrown at him. "It's okay," he finally answered, realizing for the first time that it actually was. The accusation had hurt, but the lad also knew that if he ever saw someone reading Percival's journal (if he even had one, that is) he'd get defensive over it too.

"It's not okay," the older man answered. Quietly, and in front of the unbelieving eyes of young Jonathan, Percival withdrew a familiar journal from the inside of his coat, handing it over to the thirteen-year-old brunet. "You should have it," the older man commented. "I think…I think Ben would've wanted you to have it."

Slowly, John reached out for the book being presented to him, blue eyes filled with tears as his fingers grazed the cover of Ben's leather bound treasure. Heart beating wildly from what he was getting ready to say, Jonathan swallowed his fear and opened his mouth; ready to call Percival what he'd been dying to call him for months. "Thank you…Father."

Percival smiled, reaching out to ruffle the young lad's hair. "Don't mention it, kid."

Returning his smile with one of his own, Jonathan followed his Captain – his _father_ – into the cabin without question, reveling in the warmth of his bed while Percival took to the cot.

It was a very rare occasion when the older man fell asleep before he did, but the look on Percival's face made him realize that it had all been worth it. That whatever came at them next, they would somehow be able to handle.

Jonathan closed his eyes, the expression of his sleeping Captain still fresh in his mind and filling him with warmth.

For the first time in a long time, Captain Percival fell asleep soundly; his expression peaceful and content.

_**A/N:**__ I've been dying to write this chapter for forever now. Honestly, I cannot describe to you how good it felt to be writing for Ben again. Speaking of which, what do you guys think? I tried writing it in a way where the audience can decide. Either Ben's been trying to convey his message to Percival all this time and came back as a spirit to help him, or Percival dreamed the whole thing; the combination of guilt, realizing what Jonathan had been hiding all this time, and rum getting the better of him. Whatever conclusion you draw from this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it all the same. Until next time!  
_


	17. Chapter XVII

_**A/N: **__…Yeah. I don't even know what to say here. Does sorry even cover it? I don't want to sit here and list a reason of excuses, which is what it'll sound like if I don't tell you all specifically what's been going on in my life. Two weeks ago, when I knew I'd be late posting, I made a note of it on my profile (hopefully at least a few of you saw it) but the week that followed that one consisted of a lot more than just being busy with school, but yeah…delving into all of that would be a waste of your time, so please just take me seriously when I say how genuinely sorry I am for being this late. On a brighter note, I'm also going to ask that you allow me to make it up to you by posting next Friday rather than two Fridays from now. I also would like to tell you guys that, after this chapter, there's only three more left. Yup, this sucker is going to be twenty chapters long. Anyway, I'll shut up now, and hopefully, this chapter is worth the wait. (Though, in my opinion, I think the next one is more "epic" in comparison, but we'll see). Enjoy._

_**Disclaimer**__: I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter XVII: **

"_He seems so at ease; a strange inner peace is all that he's feeling somehow."_

_-All Kinds of Time, by Fountains of Wayne-_

Sun stretched in through the small window of Percival's cabin, alerting him that morning had come. Over the past week, the sun's reminder of a brand new day had hit the Captain like an angry burn, reminding him only of how getting up just meant more and more disaster. Today, however, was different. Today, the Captain woke up and stretched his tired limbs; rested eyes alert upon feeling the warmth of the morning's tender rays.

Scarcely did the man consider himself an optimist. Okay…_never_ did the man consider himself an optimist, but damn it all if he didn't feel good about what was to come. He still had no idea how to go about handling Jordan and Jack, besides returning to the island he and Ben had set up for everyone's well-being, but unlike the last few days of silently berating himself as his worries and fears only escalated, the older man was finally realizing that he, _and _his crew, were going to get through this.

Maybe even in one piece…

Ah, _that's _where his usual pessimism went. How glad he was to have it back…

Shaking his head, Percival removed himself from the cot, focusing in on his thoughts upon first waking up rather than the voice he was so very used to.

Having been on his way out the door in order to ring the morning bell, Percival stopped himself upon hearing the chatter of teeth; its _click-click-click _turning his attention towards the second occupant in the room.

Jonathan's teeth chattered in his sleep as his thin arms clutched his pillow. The boy's body was undoubtedly lighter than Percival's, so it was no surprise he got colder more often than the Captain. Granted, it probably didn't help that the brunet kicked his covers off sometime during the night, either.

Quietly so as not to startle him awake, the older man walked over to where his growing son lay sleeping, reaching down and pulling the covers up to his shoulders. Jonathan's trembles calmed down almost instantly, his body melting into the mattress beneath him.

Smiling to himself, the auburn haired pirate made to turn away, but was stopped from doing so when his eyes caught sight of a familiar, leather bound book.

Ben's journal sat idly on the nightstand beside Jonathan; its pages waiting to be opened.

The Captain shook his head with a scoff, trying to shake off the sudden desire to read it. He hadn't felt even the smallest inclination to do so thus far, so why was the urge hitting him now?

_Because you know it's okay to. Your loyalty to Ben outweighed your curiosity completely, but now that you know he'd be okay with it…_

_ I don't _know _that._

_ Oh, c'mon, Per, seriously? After everything that happened yesterday?_

_ I'd rather not dwell on it, thank you very much._

_ I didn't say you had to dwell on it, but I don't think that means you have to deny it either._

Inhaling deeply before doing so, Percival filled the space between himself and the journal, picking it up and feeling it against his curious, calloused hands.

The weight of the journal against his palms was a heavy one, and not just because the book was surprisingly thick. It was the responsibility that came with reading it that made it so heavy; the responsibility to take what was written on those pages seriously while not letting whatever Ben had written change his outlook on the man himself.

Percival swallowed, not realizing until it hit him why he hadn't thought of reading Ben's journal until now. What if he opened it and found a slew of things – a slew of_ negative_ things – that the former first mate secretly thought of him? If it were anybody else (well, mostly, anyway) he wouldn't give a damn what they thought; be it words spoken out loud or quietly kept to themselves. Ben was different though. Ben's opinions of him – of his actions, of his words – were _always _different. And how? Well, that one was simple:

Ben's opinion mattered.

Opening the journal with tight lips and mournful curiosity, Percival couldn't help but notice the one and only page that was bookmarked. He hadn't known what he was going to read or why, but the fact that John must have found that entry important enough to remember made him take the entry more seriously.

Still feeling conflicted, the older man turned to the page and drank in the script, the familiarity of the hand writing making him inhale sharply. Ben was right; he would have known whose journal it was from the very first glance, the first mate's writing both neat and definitely distinct. For more reasons than one, it really was a good thing that Jonathan had found it first.

Still, the journal was open and waiting to be read, and while it was still a gift for the thirteen-year-old brunet, the older man could not shake the feeling that now, if only in this moment, he was supposed to read the entry set before him.

So read it he did.

_April 13__th__, 1712_

_ I remember opening this book years ago with a frown, wishing I had a better reason for wanting to write that day; the day I thought Governor Corman was going to shut me down. Now, looking back, that trial seems almost laughable. I would have taken that hit if it meant never having to write an entry like this again, but the two don't even compare, do they? No, nothing in my life even comes close to what's happening now, and the sad part is that it's not even happening to me. It's happening to the people I care about most in this world, and I feel as though I've been pushed into a corner; forced to watch their lives fall apart with nothing to offer but my usual self._

Percival swallowed. _Oh, Ben…_

Tempted to shut the journal (because _Lord,_ was it painful) Percival forced himself to keep on reading, knowing that, somehow, this entry was an important one. Still, it wasn't easy to read about how much Ben grieved over Percival's failed procedure, or how worried he was the night he showed up to his house, numbly telling him that it was Kelso who set him up. It wasn't easy to read how painfully optimistic Ben had been about it all working out, not wanting to admit – mainly for Percival's sake – that the rumors about him killing those patients weren't going to have such a negative effect on their lives.

And it definitely, _definitely_ wasn't easy to read how Jordan showed up at his house, asking him to come with her, or how grieved Ben was to say goodbye to both his sister and his nephew.

_I wonder if Ben cringed when I made comments about Jordan all of those years. I wonder if he missed Jack on his own time, not wanting to say anything out loud because he thought he didn't have the right to; because he thought he couldn't say anything as "only" his Uncle…_

Of course, it was more than Jordan's departure that struck the Captain's core. It was hearing his first mate's reasoning for choosing his sister over him; a question that had been thrown at him by the woman herself; a question that had haunted him for a while, but one that he had never been able to answer.

Until now.

_ It was only hours later that I found Percival by the docks. When he saw me, I think he thought he'd officially gone mad. Jordan was still on my mind, but my actual decision about who it was I should go with was no longer a question, but an undeniable truth. I know even Percival, at least at the time, thought I should have gone with Jordan. She is my sister, after all._

_ But what he doesn't get – what neither of them gets – is that while Jordan is my sister, Percival is my brother. I know my sister more than anyone else, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that she'll be okay out there; that she doesn't need me in order to survive. Jack alone will give her a reason to keep on fighting; to keep on waking up every morning._

_ But what reason did Perry have?_

The older man read the rest of the entry through something of a haze. The words before him engraved themselves forever in his mind, but it was the recent discovery to Ben's reasoning for going with him that caused him to close the journal and set it on the nightstand. He would never read it again, he knew, because it was that entry and that entry alone that was meant for the Captain to read. It was the entry he was supposed to take in, the revelation Ben wanted him to have, that caused the older man to realize that Ben's allegiance was not due to him loving Percival more than Jordan.

It was because Ben thought Percival _needed _him more than Jordan, and while it was obvious he'd give up the ghost for either him, it was where he was needed that dictated where he would go.

For the longest time, the Captain thought he was the only one who acted on what was needed of him. His decision to become a doctor, his reason for returning to sea…Who knew he and Ben had shared such a strong and powerful trait? He hadn't, that was for sure, and that, well… To Captain Percival, that was the saddest thing of all.

A sleep filled moan followed by a quiet yawn alerted him of Jonathan's awakening. Percival grinned at the boy's tousled hair, his brown locks sticking up every which way, as the young brunet went about rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Morning there, Jonathan."

The thirteen-year-old jumped, as if he'd forgotten where he'd fallen asleep. When his glazed eyes skimmed over both himself and the cabin, a sleepy grin took over his expression, telling the Captain that he was, as always, correct.

"Good morning, Captain Percival. I – are you okay?"

The older man realized his expression must have looked conflicted, but upon being asked how he was doing, his inner turmoil dissipated into that of overwhelming peace. Looking back, there were so many things he wished he had done differently; things he never got to say to Benjamin, things he never even realized until it was too late. And yet, despite that, Ben had stayed by his side. While his initial decision to go with him was based off of who needed him the most, Ben referring to him as a brother – _his _brother – made Percival realize that the artist's habit of acting on who needed him was not just a shallow act to fill the void, but an act of deep comradery.

"Yeah, kid, I'm fine. Whattya' say we head on down to the galley and grab some breakfast though, alright? I'm not sure about you, but I'm borderline salivating."

Percival watched as the thirteen-year-old smiled, hopping out of the bed and striding toward where he stood, but not before grabbing his hat along the way. With a nod of confirmation, the older man opened the door and headed towards the galley, trying not to smile as the last part of Ben's entry re-read itself in his mind.

_Maybe this is the start of something great; of something both of us will genuinely be glad for one day. I know I'm already getting there, anyway, which is what I plan on telling him later, because really – piracy isn't all that bad. Not if you're free of the things that held you down before; not if the ship is your home and the ocean your neighbor. Not if your Captain is a guy like Percival._

**-MV-**

Entering the galley with the Captain that morning put the bounce back in Jonathan's step that had been missing since Jordan and Jack's return. The two departed from each other not long after crossing the threshold, but only because Percival had to talk to Troy about the difference between leftover and rotten food. "The rat bastard," he heard him mumble before turning away. Feeling both amused and worried for the chef, Jonathan helped himself to a huge bowl of porridge before sitting down next to Christopher, trying not to blush at the way Carla knowingly grinned at his cheery composure.

"Feeling better this morning?"

Jonathan nodded sheepishly, feeling rather embarrassed by his all out cry fest from the night before.

"Don't be," Carla commented, reading his expression to the T. "I meant what I said last night; you're more than welcome to talk to me anytime you want to."

"Thanks, Carla," the teen repeated gratefully.

The Latina woman smiled. "Don't mention it."

Of course, by this point, Turk was looking back and forth between the two of them, clearly at a loss as to what was taking place. "What now?" he finally queried.

"Nothing, baby," Carla answered smoothly, but not before sharing a private wink with Jonathan.

The brunet giggled through his porridge, but was interrupted from continuing when an unmistakable whistle silenced them all.

"Listen up, Ladies!"

All heads turned towards the Captain, whose composure was upright and meaningful. It seemed the whole crew noticed the older man's stance was stronger than it had been in days, and while nobody whispered a word, a few of the pirates glanced in Jonathan's direction, making the thirteen-year-old blush all over again. Was it just him, or did the rest of the crew feel more at ease since Jonathan and Percival made up? Was their relationship between each other really that vital to the rest of them?

"While none of you were around for this particular occurrence, I'm sure you've heard rumors about, 'An island of peace."

"It doesn't exist," Lonnie cut in bitterly. "I've looked…"

"So have I," Douglas shared solemnly. "Trust me, I was more than eager to find it…"

"You, Lonnie, need to sa-_heriously _stop interrupting me." One nod to Shilling Guy was all it took for the tallest of them to whack the red head on his skull. Lonnie practically shrieked at the contact, nodding to the Captain apologetically before slumping back down in his seat.

"And you, Douglas: while I'm not surprised you couldn't find the thing, I'm here to tell you that it is, in fact, real."

Shilling Guy turned back towards the Captain, his sheathed sword raised in the air in order to whack Doug. From the barrel in which he stood, the older man shook his head no, deciding to give the kid a pass for having at least believed in the location. Disappointed, the taller man lowered his arm.

"Now then… The reason I know that this 'Island of Peace' exists is because Ben and I were the ones who made it."

All eyes widened at the latest announcement (all eyes but Jonathan's, anyway). The mere mention of Ben would have pulled them all to attention by itself, but to find out that the rumored island actually existed _and_ their Captain and former first mate created it…?

"It was years ago now, but Ben and I had just been damned into piracy. After surviving our first battle, we realized that we were going to need a safe place. However, it wasn't going to work if we did nothing but dub it our island, so we decided to make it a haven for pirates in general."

Cautiously so as not to be re-whacked, Lonnie raised his hand. "It's not that I don't believe you, Captain, but why are we going there now?"

"Because, gentlemen, that's where I believe Jordan is. That's where I believe we'll find the crew of _the Lost Siren."_

Whispers erupted throughout _the Sacred Heart._ Everyone was a flutter with what had just been told to them, all except for Jonathan, who was still staring up at Captain Percival.

"_Ladies,_" the older man cut in. "Have your tea party later, will you? We don't have time for gossip hour."

Jonathan turned to Christopher as the surgeon's arm shot up, eyebrows furrowed with obvious curiosity. "Captain? I'm all for this plan, don't get me wrong, but how exactly do you know they're there? I mean…what made you think of it?"

It was here that Jonathan and Percival shared a look, and all at once, the brunet realized that this was something for them and them alone; a secret kept between them that the others would not be permitted to hear. Understanding the older man's reasoning, since telling the crew would involve sharing some very private events from his former life and the life of the first mate's (not to mention the existence of Ben's journal) John still couldn't help but feel bad for those who didn't know. Yet, at the same time, he also couldn't help but feel, well…special.

"It's a long story," the Captain finally answered. "One that your pea-sized brain wouldn't be able to follow."

Growling, Christopher lowered his hand; the older man's comment earning him an irritated frown from Carla.

"Return back to your meals and power up. We're not stopping until we reach this 'fabled island,' so take in all the energy you can now."

Jumping off of the barrel, Captain Percival grabbed himself a second helping of breakfast and returned to the privacy of his cabin, leaving the crew to discuss their new location.

**-MV-**

It was a month's time before _the Sacred Heart _reached the island in question. During said thirty-one days, the crew went about their daily routine as usual. Jonathan and Percival continued with their sparring practices, in which the older man reminded his son that he had yet to come up with a name for their style (something that the thirteen-year-old had almost completely forgotten about). Christopher taught Carla how to handle a sword, which Elliot was thrilled about, since it meant that they could practice together. Of course, the waitress had already demanded she practice with the men, which the Captain said was fine; going so far as to question why she thought it wouldn't be in the first place. Apparently, the crew had been hesitant to let her join in on their practice, but not because of the reasons Elliot thought. Turns out, the lot of them were afraid that they'd hurt her, which caused them all to hold back. It wasn't until the blonde woman all but mutilated Todd in a one on one duel did they decide that such measures weren't necessary. (Apparently, the man wouldn't stop hitting on her, despite her various warnings about her husband back at home, so Elliot was beyond thrilled to get her hand at shutting him up).

Much to Jonathan's disdain, Shilling Guy seemed to regain his usual self, carrying on where he last left off when it came to teasing him. Having prepared himself for fighting back, the brunet decided to let it go instead, realizing that his teasing was probably a good sign, since it was the deceased bodies upon deceased bodies that had kept the tallest of them from behaving normally for so long…

Jonathan went back to reading Ben's journal, but for once, it was with a light heart. With the guilt and fear having finally been diminished, John read the former first mate's words with bittersweet nostalgia, no longer worrying while doing so. (There was even one night where he read it in front of his father before going to bed, having taken residence in the cabin instead of his hammock).

Besides the obvious worry that was their soon-to-be-reunion with _the Lost Siren_ (or worse – that they'd get there and she'd already be gone) the crew of _the Sacred Heart_ finally felt right again.

But of course, time goes on, and before the lot of them knew what was happening, _the Sacred Heart_ was making shore on the island's awaiting beach.

Shaking, Douglas climbed down from the crow's nest, waving his spyglass like a long lost treasure. "I saw it, I saw it! It's on the other side of the i-island, but it's definitely there; _the Lost S-Siren!"_

"Was there anybody on it?" Phillip queried.

"Not from what I could tell. The sails were drawn down and the main deck was e-e-empty."

"Not surprising," Carla cut in. "If they've been here for as long as we think, then I'm sure they've made themselves familiar with the territory, rather than just staying on the ship all day. After all, they have to eat. Knowing where to fish and where to get water is vital to their survival."

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably as he shared another glance with Percival. Only they knew that Jordan didn't need to familiarize herself with the place at all.

Finally stepping off board, the brunet couldn't help but catch sight of the plaque he only read about, walking up to it quietly as the rest of the crew went about stretching and talking amongst themselves.

Time had made itself known to the marble plaque, its appearance not as grand as John knew it would have been originally, but its structure would still catch any pirates' eye; the words engraved there undoubtedly legible:

_The shore on which you stand is a pirate's place for peace. All who inhabit this land must vow to never strike another. Engaging in battle is strictly prohibited for pirates and sailors alike, and those who break these guidelines will be doomed to a life of never ending blood._

As morbid as the last part was, Jonathan couldn't help but chuckle at recalling the entry from Ben's journal; remembering at once that the "curse" was a complete fabrication on both Benjamin and Percival's part.

Still, the plaque couldn't help but make the young teen mourn. Knowing that the two people he looked up to the most in this world once stood there together, side by side, engraving those words that they only hoped would have a positive affect…

Quietly grazing his fingers over the sand covered inscription, Jonathan jumped as a familiar hand rested on his shoulder, calling him out of his reverie. "Did you read about it in the journal?" the older man asked quietly.

Jonathan nodded, causing the Captain's grip to tighten in comfort. "We laughed at that last line there; Ben and I. Though I'm guessing you know about that too..."

The mini-pirate chuckled. "Yeah, but I like hearing you talk about it."

"Well there's more where that came from, kid, but we'll save that stuff for another time..." Turning around, the older man whistled sharply, calling the rest of the crew over to the plaque in order to dole out instructions. "Alright, sea rats, listen up: This island here isn't the biggest one around, but I'm going to go ahead and guess that the crew of _the Lost Siren _won't be gathered together in one little spot; sitting around idly and waiting for us to show up. Bear in mind that they've probably been here for almost two months now, so they're more used to this place than we are. Walk with caution, but not with venom. Remember: there is no fighting in this place, so there's no reason – or excuse – to jump out and attack them. If they aim to hurt you, however, don't hesitate to bear you sword. Remind them once of the rules, and if they still go at you, defend yourselves. Don't be the one to shed blood though, if you can avoid it. If ever this was brought to the Pirate's Council, your way out will be that you never hurt the other, you hear?"

A round of nods and "Ayes!" accompanied the Captain's latest instructions.

"Good. Now, I'm going to break you off into groups. We'll find the lot of them faster and easier if we cover all of our ground.

"Carla, you and Elliot will accompany Christopher. Make sure to keep him safe."

Percival smirked as the pirate merely growled, while the girls actually grinned at his latest jab at the surgeon.

"Phillip," the older man continued once the other three departed, "You go with Douglas. He's going to need someone to keep him calm."

Nodding, the two pirates ventured off.

"Shilling Guy, you go with Lonnie. Keep him in check, will you? He needs it."

Jonathan watched in silence as the Captain continued to make groups, sending each one of them out in order to find Jordan's crew. When only he and the Captain were left, the older man turned to him and nodded, his next words easing the tension in the brunet's uneasy posture. "You and me, kid. Let's go."

**-MV-**

Jonathan was relieved that they had arrived there in the morning. He couldn't imagine how terrifying it would be to try and navigate the island at night; it's hundreds of trees and thick brush making it difficult to stay on track. Still, Percival seemed to know what he was doing, to which the lad was eternally grateful.

"Stay close," the Captain instructed authoritatively. "There's not too much in the way of wildlife on this island, since it's fairly small in comparison to others, but that doesn't mean that what doesn't reside here isn't dangerous."

Jonathan swallowed. After living out at sea for so long, he was used to the idea of nature turning its back on him. The ocean, the sky, the wind… While the animals themselves were no danger to them unless their vessel sunk, he was very well acquainted with the idea of being attacked by sharks or piranhas; the old crew of _the Fractured Enid_ having constantly threatened to feed him to said beasts.

Wildlife on land, however, he wasn't that used to. The town he grew up in, along with Percival's small town, wasn't home to any sort of wild beast. They had their usual farm animals, along with the occasional critter, but nothing that would serve as a real threat to their being.

"Relax," Percival said from in front of him, clearly having sensed the young boy's tension. "I said there _could _be animals like that, but the chance of there being an abundance is highly unlikely. Keep in mind that we chose this island for pirates to revitalize without squirming in fear of being attacked. Granted, those beasts out there can't read our plaque, but we wouldn't have chosen this place had we thought there any real danger. Not to mention the new knowledge that was Ben's father taking him and Jordan here when they were younger. I've never met the man, but from what Ben shared with me about him, I can't picture Mr. Sullivan voluntarily putting his kids in any sort of danger."

Jonathan nodded, taking his father's words to heart. Just like Ben's father, he couldn't imagine Captain Percival putting him in any real danger as well. Granted, they lived an extremely dangerous lifestyle; the risks of being out at sea many, but it was a life that fate had brought to him, not Percival. Ever since he knew him, the Captain had always made sure he was safe; teaching him how to protect himself, teaching him how to face a storm… Sure, they were dangerous lessons, but they were lessons he needed to learn in order to survive, and that was one of the reasons that made Percival such a good father.

Still, what _would _the older man do if they were attacked by, let's see…a tiger? Jonathan shivered, until the mental image of his Captain and a tiger facing off embedded itself in his mind. A small grin spread across the young teen's face as he pictured them dueling it out; the tiger's tail going in between his legs as the Captain stood triumphantly over his victim. Then again, how would a tiger even get _onto _an island? Sure, the creature could swim, but certainly not as far as the jungles they normally inhabited to the small island they were on now, right? That was an extremely long distance, even for a vessel like _the Sacred Heart._ And besides, even if a tiger _could _swim that far, the likely hood of him making it would be slim, since a shark or a piranha would most likely get to him first. Or what if Elliot's husband, Sean, was right? What if there _were _leviathans out there, and what if a leviathan's favorite food was a tiger? Well then the poor thing would never make it, would he? Tigers were strong, but a leviathan would definitely, _definitely – _

Jonathan found himself with a face full of mud as he tripped over an offending vine, causing him to land face first into the ground beneath him. Groaning, the brunet pulled himself up, ears already pink from embarrassment as he waited to be teased by Captain Percival.

But the teasing never came.

Upon closer inspection to where it was he was standing, the young brunet realized he wasn't that far ahead of where he was last walking with his father. The older man was telling him not to be afraid, which caused the teen to think of the tiger, which caused him to think of the imaginary duel, which caused him to think of the leviathan, and oh God… Oh God, oh God, oh God! He'd done what he hadn't done since leaving with his mother and brother; he'd done what he hadn't done since getting lost because of it, only to be kidnapped by the late Theodore Buckland. He'd done what he promised himself he'd never do again!

He day dreamed when he wasn't in a safe environment; he spaced out when he wasn't in a place he was familiar with, and now, because of his own doing, Jonathan was lost on an island he knew nothing about, surrounded by not only whatever kind of animal was out there, but the bitter and vengeful crew of _the Lost Siren _as well.

And he was alone.

_**A/N:**__ Thank you guys, _so much,_ for all of your patience and feedback. I hope the long wait was worth it, and if all goes according to plan, I'll see you guys next Friday! _

_**P.S. **_**– **_If I don't respond to your review as quickly as I normally do, I swear I'm not ignoring you. The site has recently stopped sending me author alerts, story alerts, and review alerts. I've e-mailed the staff about it, so we'll see if anything happens. Anyway, thank you guys again. I sincerely appreciate the time you take out of your day to read this and the amount of patience you've had with me so far. That being said, I hope the wait was worth it and that you enjoyed the chapter. Until next time!_


	18. Chapter XVIII

_**A/N: **__Hola, mis amigas! __Before I get into everything here, allow me to repeat myself and say thanks so much for your feedback so far! In the chaotic frenzy that has been my recent life, your comments have really been making my day. Of course, as I'm sure you guessed, I didn't get to post this last Friday like I planned to. My family and I ended up going to my home state for Thanksgiving, something I haven't done in years, so that's where I was on Turkey Day. (If you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you had a good one! And if you don't, I hope you had a good one anyway. ;)) I decided to post this sucker now instead of making you wait until Friday because one, I want to make it up to you, and two, I'm officially "leaving the nest," as they say, and moving into an apartment tomorrow. I'm going to be getting internet access asap, but I'm not sure if I'll have it up and running by this Friday. That being said, I wanted to play it safe and post this before moving. Oh, and just for the record, this site is still not sending me any alerts, so if I don't respond to your reviews as quickly as I normally do, that's why. I've been trying to check the Scrubs page more frequently, but hopefully, the site administrators will fix the problem soon. Anyway, this chapter's fairly massive, so I'll leave you alone to read. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter XVIII:**

_"Out of the doubt that fills my mind, I somehow find you and I collide."  
-Collide, by Howie Day-_

As Captain Percival continued through the various trees and brush, he found himself oddly thankful for their existence, despite how difficult they made it to travel through certain parts of the island. Still, as the sun leaked through the trees and painted their way across his sweat soaked forehead, the older man knew the heat would be far more brutal if not for the shade that surrounded him and Jonathan.

Mouth suddenly aching for water, Percival recalled how he had given the canteen to Jonathan just a mere ten minutes ago. "Hey, John," the older man started, eyes still fixed on the path ahead of him. "Want to hand me that canteen there for a second?"

When silence was his only response, Percival finally took a moment to turn around; confused, blue eyes quickly morphing into panicked ones.

Oh, God, no. Not now. Not here. Not to Jonathan, damn it!

It wasn't a big deal if the kid wandered off back home or at a familiar port, but on an island he never visited before? An island that was also sheltering the crew of _the Lost Siren?_ The older man breathed in deeply through his nose, reminding himself what the island's purpose was for. The likely hood of him getting attacked was slim, seeing as how the rules laid out on the plaque hadn't been broken since he and Ben created them. (Well, he didn't know that _for sure_, but if ever something like that had transpired, he was positive he would have heard rumor of it out at sea or in Carla's eating establishment). Still, the idea of Jonathan wandering out there alone…

Turning around, the red headed captain walked in the direction of where he came from, in hopes of finding the thirteen year old brunet. It wasn't long at all before his boot landed in an awaiting pile of mud, something that caused the experienced pirate to stare down at the earth beneath him.

When one lived a life of piracy, one couldn't be fazed by things like filth and grime. Yet, despite Percival's familiarity with the dirt that nature brought along, there was something…_odd _about the mud he just stepped in. Or maybe the mud in itself wasn't odd, but the fact that there was even mud at all. Why? Well, that one was simple: it hadn't rained in days. If it had, _the Sacred Heart_ would've been close enough to the island by that point to have been hit by the storm as well. So if the island remained rain free for the past several days, then why was there so much mud there? And why only in that one spot?

Bending down to see if his suspicions were correct, Percival watched in little to no surprise as a steady stream of water flowed through the mud in which he just stepped; trickling down and into the rest of the forest. The water in question was coming from a larger source, and on that particular island, there was only one main source of water he could think of…

Hoisting himself up and choosing to follow the stream, the older man hoped that Jonathan had done the same. If this tiny rivulet led to where he thought it did, then there was no way he'd miss him upon reaching the location.

With his memory of spending time there with Ben guiding his mud covered footsteps, it wasn't long at all until he reached his destination. Reaching out to remove a banner of thorn covered vines (_the rat bastards_) Captain Percival stood in front of a spot he hadn't seen in years; one that he used to take great comfort in.

Before him lay a crystal clear lake; tiny rivers from which trickled out of the surrounding area and into the forest behind him. The older man swallowed as he took in the place he hadn't seen in years, memories of both he and Benjamin jumping from the highest point of the ledge and into the water below; the sound of various birds accompanying their boisterous laughter and nonsensical dares.

Yes, the scene was bittersweet, but it was missing something – _someone_ – that was more important than the memory he reflected on, even if it was a precious one.

The older man brought his calloused hands to his face, cupping his mouth in order to call out the young teen's name, loud and clear. "_JONATHAN!_" The name hung in the air as Percival waited for a response; posture tense with parental anxiety. When silence was his answer yet again, the Captain made to leave in order to find his son. Of course, he hadn't prepared for the voice that stopped him from doing so.

_Wait a minute, big guy. Where exactly do you think Jonathan is right now?_

_ If I knew that, we wouldn't have a problem now, would we? So knock it off. I'm going to go find him._

_ As a good parent should, but don't you think he's out there trying to find _you?

_Obviously, but I'm guessing I'll find him before he finds me, so if you'll excuse me –_

_ And how do you plan on pulling that off? With Jonathan going one way and you going the other, the chances of you finding him anytime soon are slim. Now, if you were to remain in one spot, especially a spot like this – one that is relatively easy to find – don't you think it's more probable that he'll eventually find you here? If you leave and he finds this place after the fact, then he's going to go right back out into that jungle and chase after you all over again. _

_ This island's not that big. Even if that was the case –_

_ You'd find him eventually, yes, but taking into consideration that your crew is not the only one on this island right now, you might want to go with the quickest way of finding him._

_ Point taken, but don't you also think that –_

_ Stay put, Per. I mean it._

Wearily, the older man combed a tired hand through his curls, removing his hat before doing so. It was becoming increasingly harder to tell if his inner voice was simply his conscious berating him, or, well…

Not wanting to think on it any further, especially given the fact that he was standing where he and Ben had once rejuvenated, Percival decided to listen to his conscious, choosing to stay at the lake in question in wait for the young brunet.

But what to do until then? Stand around and wait? Jump from the top like he used to? No. The first option would drive him mad with worry, and the second would just feel too wrong without Ben there…

Muscles tense with anxiety, the auburn haired pirate found himself looking at the familiar and powerful waterfall; its body of water cascading down onto a boulder twice the Captain's size.

Making sure to shed his clothes before doing so, Percival made his way over to the familiar perch, climbing the boulder and placing himself under the gentle massage of the waterfall. Its pressure was strong, but not forceful. It's temperature refreshing, but not cold. The weight of nature's shower crashing down on him was one of the few things in life that could put him into something of a trance.

He remained that way for what felt like hours; his legs crossed comfortably and his freckled skin soaked, until the crunch of a loan stick awoke him out of his rare and peaceful state. Realizing instantly from the position of the sun that he had only been trance like for fifteen minutes at best, Percival turned around to greet who he assumed to be Jonathan. Instead, he was met with another gaze entirely; brown, smoldering eyes staring up at his naked form.

"Perry," she greeted coolly.

Muscles instantly tensing upon her appearance, the older man responded with a curt but visible nod. "Jordan."

**-MV-**

He was out of water.

After having lost his way from Percival, Jonathan had searched for him for what felt like forever, and on a hot, lonely island, "forever" was equivalent to "extraordinarily thirsty." Of course, the teen's face was now caked with mud from his fall, so after drinking until he was no longer parched, Jonathan used what was left to wash the grime off his face.

Not good.

Figuring it couldn't possibly be much longer until he found Captain Percival, the brunet didn't think much of it, at first. It wasn't until he came across a small clearing and got a better look at the sun did he realize that "forever" had only been about fifteen minutes.

_Damn it!_

Frustrated, Jonathan took a seat under a nearby palm tree, staring out into the grassy patch before him and trying to figure out where he should head towards next.

Attention having been focused on how he should proceed, Jonathan couldn't help but startle when an unidentifiable creature emerged from the woods across the way, its tiny footsteps rustling the land beneath him. Fascinated, John watched on, expecting such an odd looking creature to be doing odd looking things. Instead, his new furry friend just investigated its surroundings. Closer and closer it came – small, black eyes curious – until it's very long, very thin nose found itself just feet away from Jonathan. "Hello," the brunet greeted softly, a small smile gracing his expression. "Are you lost too?"

The animal in question looked up at the sound of his voice, black eyes drinking him in. Cautiously, the teen reached out to pet him, but was dismissed before he could even make contact; the four-legged creature having turned away quickly in order to scurry towards where he had come from. Oddly hurt at being rejected by the thing, Jonathan stood up in order to return to his search of Captain Percival. It wasn't until he noticed the long-nosed animal standing by the edge of the clearing that he decided to change his plan. "Are you waiting for me?" he asked curiously. Feeling foolish for addressing the mammal in such a way, John was surprised when his new friend turned back into the jungle, as if silently indicating that he should follow. Figuring that he had no better option than the one presented to him now (and admittedly curious as to where the thing would take him) Jonathan followed suit; letting the little guy lead him down a path he had yet to travel.

The brunet carried on that way for several minutes; following the light brown creature through the forest without pause. Through twists, turns, and thorn covered bushes, Jonathan kept his eyes on the critter that led him; hoping – _praying_ – that it would somehow lead him to Percival.

With a clearing finally in view, Jonathan didn't hesitate before stepping into the green, sunlit opening, the furry creature still in front of him. He expected his heart to drop upon realizing that his father was nowhere in sight, but when startled blue eyes turned to look at him, his heart decided to beat wildly instead.

"Jonathan," the blonde greeted calmly.

Mirroring both his nod and his tone, the brunet returned the greeting. "Jack."

**-MV-**

"How long have you been here?" The question was asked by Captain Sullivan, who was doing her best to stare at the red-headed pirate from the waist up only.

"Here as in the lake or here as on the island? You're gonna have to be more specific there, sweetheart."

Jordan's eyes narrowed viciously. "Excuse me, _Per_, but do you really have the right to be snarky with your pants off?"

Having been out from under the waterfall for at least the last three minutes, Percival had the decency to blush before reaching down for his trousers. It was faint; the tips of his ears the kind of light pink you'd see in a sunrise, but to Jordan, it was as obvious as obvious could be.

Much to the woman's dismay, the sun kissed pirate decided to remain shirtless; his toned upper body completely exposed. After pulling his pants up roughly, the older man flicked his nose and crossed his arms; a gesture that she remembered with perfect clarity. "That better for you, _Jordaroo?"_

The brunette woman smiled dangerously. "Of course, _Ulysses."_

Shoving his hands deep within his pockets so that Jordan couldn't see them curl into fists, the older man's jaw grew tight with pent up frustration, deciding to forgo whatever game she was playing and cut right to the chase. "You know why we're here, Jordan, so let's cut the crap. I was sent by Governor Corman to haul you and your sorry crew in for a trial."

"Wait… I knew you were out to arrest me, but for Governor _Corman?_ The same Governor that spread those horrible rumors about Ben? I don't know _why _it comes as a surprise that you would stoop so low, but even after all this time, I _really _can't believe that you would – "

"Stop right there." Seeing that she was giving him a chance to speak, Percival didn't waste any time in fighting right back. "I would never, _never_, turn my back on Benjamin. The only reason I agreed to come out here was because of the towns he told us about; the towns that _you _destroyed, but don't think for a second that it was easy for me to help him. Not after what he did to Benji, and _damn _sure not after what he did to me."

Jordan, whose razor tongue had been ready and raring to fire, stopped herself from spitting her next insult at her ex-husband's words. "'What he did to you?'" she repeated accusingly. "What the hell did Corman ever do to _you?"_

Percival grit his teeth, not having expected the truth to come out so abruptly. Not now, not here; not ever, when he thought about it.

But really, what was there to lose? He chose not to tell her back then in fear of Corman and the rest of the town's officials connecting them to his "murders;" damning the both of them to whatever fate they had planned, but seeing as how she was now none other than the feared "Ghost Ship" captain…

"Governor Corman damned me to piracy," he finally confessed. "Remember Robert Kelso? My soulless, inhuman boss? Yeah, you remember him. He set it up so that it looked as though I killed three patients. There was no proof protesting to the contrary, so when he went and told the Governor, it didn't take long for him to ban me from the town. That's why I was drinking so much, near the end there; around the time before you took Jack and left... That's why I barely even spoke. I was being damned to a life I didn't want the two of you a part of, and while nothing was 'official,' I knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later. I knew I was done."

The older man had made sure to keep his tone as indifferent as possible when telling her what had happened, but it was hard to keep up the façade when her brown eyes showed such unbridled shock. The look of complete and utter surprise that poured from her expression was more than he had ever seen her reveal.

Slowly, though, her eyes morphed into a look he was far more familiar with. Anger emitted from the burning brown eyes that stared up at him, but this was not her usual hate, no. This was…different. Something else besides anger lingered there too. Something that was, something that was –

"You _BASTARD!_"

Percival's balance faltered, if only for a second, as two hands pushed roughly against his chest. "What the _hell_, Jordan?"

"Oh, don't you even _start_ with me! 'What the hell?' Seriously? You honestly, _honestly_ don't get why I'm angryright now?"

The older man opened his mouth to reply, but Jordan jumped on him before he could form one, too angry to just wait and keep silent. "You were in serious trouble. You were getting ready to be charged for murders you didn't commit. Your _whole family_ was in jeopardy, and you didn't _once _think of telling _me? _Are you _serious?_"

Percival could practically feel his eyes turn crazy; calloused hands emerging from his pockets and throwing themselves up in disbelief. "I didn't tell you in order to _protect _you! I thought if you knew and they _found out _that you knew, you'd be more connected to me than ever; that they'd charge you with whatever fate they had waiting for _me!_ I didn't want you and Jack to suffer, _God forbid._ You're seriously going to get mad at me for that?"

"YES!" she barked at once. "So instead of letting us figure something out together, you just decided to leave us out of the picture entirely. No wonder you barely reacted when we left! You thought in that thick, STUBBORN AS HELL SKULL OF YOURS, that you were actually doing something _good? _You're such an idiot, Percival, I _swear!_"

"Oh, don't you _even,_" the older man growled. "Don't you even stand here and pretend like you would've stuck with me; like you wouldn't have walked out sooner had you known the truth. It was obvious to everybody – it was obvious for _months _– that you were looking for an excuse to take Jack and leave. Had you known what I was up against, you would've been out of that door in a _heartbeat!"_

"YOU'RE RIGHT!" she shouted viscously. "I _was _looking for a reason to leave you. Do you want to know _why? _It was because of _that _kind of moronic reasoning! It was because of the logic behind your decision to not tell me what had happened to you!"

It was the first time during their shouting match that Percival didn't respond immediately after her attack, not having expected (or completely understood) what it was she had just thrown at him. "Excuse me?" he finally managed.

"You were _always_ doing that! Keeping things to yourself and not allowing others to help. I know I'm not always emotionally there, but that's always why I thought you _could _come to me; because I never expected you to 'pour your heart out' or 'bare your soul.' I never asked more of you than you were willing to give, at least emotionally, because I damn sure didn't like to share that either. But you did – _we _did – in the beginning, and that's why we worked. That's why I _thought_ we worked, anyway, because we knew how the other needed to grieve; we knew what the other needed to do or needed to say in order to get over whatever it was that had gotten us there to begin with. But then you just stopped sharing all together, and whenever something bad happened, you would just completely shut down; refusing to get help, refusing to let me in, and refusing to do anything but work, work, work. That's all you ever did! I'm guessing it was to 'fill the void,' or some sentimental garbage like that, but hey, _here's _an idea for you, Per: How about letting _me _fill the void once in a while? How about letting Jack? But no; you either took to the bottle or made house call after house call; remedy after remedy, and even _then _you refused to seek help. No one was allowed to make those calls for you; no one was even allowed to make them_ with_ you! You trusted no one, which would have been _fine _if they had all been completely incompetent, but you know as well as I do that youjust _refused _to let them help. And why? Because you set yourself up for failure. You constantly got in the way of yourself; constantly made sure you came home frustrated and tired and weary of the world, because that's how you _liked _it. Having a _nice _family was just too _boring_ and _happy_ for you, wasn't it? You got so used to feeling miserable that you didn't know how to be happy, so you made it so that nobody could ease your stress; so that nobody could share your burden. And, in doing so, you shut me and Jack out completely. Besides the complete and total frustration that was watching the person you love consistently set himself up for failure, imagine what I thought of Jack growing up in a place like that? He had his whole life ahead of him then; hopeful and optimistic and _happy. _So can you imagine what would have happened if he grew up watching _you _as his role model? He would have been cynical by the time he was five!"

"Yeah," Percival cut in finally, "Because growing up in a life of piracy and murdering hundreds of people is a _far _better lifestyle than what he would've gotten with me."

A cold, unforgiving slap to the face was his reply. Wincing only slightly, Percival never once took his eyes off his ex-wife; her face flushed with anger as she drew her hand back roughly, leaving medium-sized nail marks on the side of his left cheek. "Don't," she hissed venomously. "Hate me for plotting for months on how and when to leave you. Hate me for taking Jack the way I did, but don't you _dare_ hate me for what happened to those towns. My decision to leave you – my reason for taking Jack – _those_ were intentional decisions. But those people? Those _bodies?_ I _never _would have done that had I known, so don't you dare hate me for that, Percival, don't you _dare. _Think back on how guilty you felt for the death of those patients; those accidental murders that were set up by Kelso himself. Now triple it. Triple it over and over and over again; so much so that you can't do the math in your head. _That's _the amount of guilt I'm feeling after seeing that town, do you hear me? _That's_ what I'm living with – what I'm going to be living with for the rest of my _life _– after knowing what I caused. After knowing what I caused _Jack _to be a part of. I hate myself far more than you could ever hate me, so don't you even _dare!_"

When Jordan went to deliver another blow, Percival was ready, catching her off guard by catching her wrist. "Listen here and listen well," he started off sternly; his voice deep and tight with tension. "You talk about me not 'opening up' as much as you would have liked. Fine. I'll give you that one, but you seriously don't see the hypocrisy in your reason for leaving? You claim that, at some magical point in our lives, _you _opened up to _me_. When exactly was that, Jordan? Because I'll tell you one thing: you sure as _hell _didn't open up to me about _me _not opening up to _you._ No, you didn't say a _word. _This is the first time I'm hearing _any _of this."

"Fine," she spit back, yanking her wrist away from his hold. "Hate me for my hypocrisy then too, but don't you _ever_ hate me for those towns. No matter how hard you try, you will never hate me more than I hate myself. You'll never hate me more than…"

Percival couldn't help but frown as Jordan trailed off, her eyebrows creased with an abundance of suppressed emotion. It wasn't until those fierce, ember eyes started glistening over that the Captain's angry expression morphed into that of total shock. "Jordan? Are you…are you crying?"

The brunette swiped a quick and uneasy hand under her eyes, as if she didn't quite know the answer to the question herself. "No. I don't know. I just…" Breathing in sharply, Captain Sullivan crossed her arms as she continued to look away, unable to make eye contact with the person she had given her same fate to. "Your son hates me," she finally confessed. Much to Percival's shock and Jordan's horror, a few tears escaped her upon uttering those mournful words. It was the first time she had allowed Jack's outburst to truly sink in, even though his accusations had haunted her dreams over the course of the last two months. "He hates me because I lied to him."

Percival swallowed. He didn't know why he was preparing to ask his next question. He had suspected it for years now – secretly wondering how Jordan would've responded to Jack's inevitable questions concerning the absence of his father – and if he knew Jordan at all, he also knew how she would have replied. Still, he needed to hear it. As painful as it was going to be, he needed to hear her confess. "And what, exactly, did you lie to him about?"

Still unable to make eye contact, Percival watched as Jordan's adam's apple bobbed up and down before answering. "I told him that you left us," she admitted evenly. "I told him that you never really cared."

The older man's jaw clenched at once. He knew the answer he was going to receive upon asking, but hearing her say it out loud…

Struggling to keep his composure, the auburn haired pirate focused in on the tears that rolled down his ex-wife's cheek. It was strange... She wasn't trembling. She wasn't even making any noise. She was just standing there, looking out at the lake; tear after tear rolling down her face as though they had always been there.

He wanted to scream at her. He wanted to demand her to stop, because honestly, how dare she? How dare she cry at the prospect of their son hating her, when all of Jack's life, she'd made it so that _Jack _hated _him?_ How dare she act so upset, when she had sixteen wonderful years with him, while he only had three? How dare she act so mortified over their son wanting to find out the _truth?_

But as Percival stood there watching, jaw clenched tight and Jordan's tears still free, he recognized something else in her expression; an emotion that was painfully familiar.

The expression Jordan wore now was not one of a fierce and powerful captain. It wasn't even one of a manipulative human being. It was one of a lost and guilt stricken parent; something he had just went through himself after Jonathan blew up at him too… While all was well between him and the thirteen year old brunet, the pain from their fallout was still fresh in his memory; his worries about John hating him, about being a horrible parent… "He doesn't hate you." The words left his mouth before he could stop himself, but when Jordan looked back at him for the first time since looking away, Percival knew he was in for the long haul. "He probably just feels…abandoned. He trusts you more than anyone, I imagine; probably looks up to you too, so suddenly finding out that you didn't tell him the truth… It's going to leave a mark on him. But he doesn't hate you. He could never hate you. He loves you too damn much, which is why it hurts the most if the pain he's feeling is coming from you, because no one wants to be lied to like that, especially from a person they admire. So no, Jack doesn't hate you. If he's anything like Jonathan, he doesn't hate you at all."

Jordan's tears were still present, but the seconds between each new one was becoming visibly longer. "Jonathan," she suddenly echoed. Percival didn't know what to think of his name on her tongue. It sounded almost foreign, yet at the same time... "Jack mentioned him briefly months ago, but I didn't give it much thought at the time… He's your…what exactly?"

"My son," Percival answered immediately, the tone of his voice unwavering. "He's my son."

A flash of confusion burst through her eyes, but instead of following his response with a series of negative comments, Jordan merely nodded; accepting what was just told to her despite the questions that came with it.

The older man didn't know why he said what he said next, but once the thought entered his mind, he couldn't seem to ignore it. "Ben liked him, you know; thought he was a great kid. I'm sure if he was still here, he'd be doing just as much as I was to raise him."

Jordan's eyes narrowed upon the mention of her sibling's name. Percival immediately prepared himself for the accusations that she threw at him last time, having expected it even as he voiced his latest comment. What he wasn't expecting, however, was for her to react the way she did. "Please don't bring him into this right now, alright? There must be a thousand other ways to torture me, but please, don't use Benjamin. If he wasn't already disgusted with me enough, I can't even imagine his reaction upon finding out what my crew and I have caused, so please…"

It was Percival's turn to look confused; a part of her comment having made no sense whatsoever. "'If he wasn't already disgusted with you enough?' What the hell does that mean?"

Anger returned to her at once as she glared back at the older man, though it was admittedly a much tamer version than before. "Don't play dumb, Percival. You must know more than anyone how repulsed he was by me leaving you. After all, why would he choose you over me? I always knew you two were close, but I thought, at the end of the day, what with me being his _sister _and all…"

The captain of _the Sacred Heart_ breathed in through his nose, remembering how he felt the strong and undeniable need to read Ben's dog-eared journal entry. The artist's recollection of that day flooded his memory as he took in Jordan's words; his curious feeling as to why he was supposed to read it becoming clearer and clearer. "Ben wasn't repulsed with you decision. Disappointed, yeah, but even then, it wasn't just with you. He really wanted us to stay together; to be the way we once were; to be a family. He was disappointed in the way you went about things and how it led to your ultimate decision, but more than anything, he was disappointed that our family – Benjamin included – was being ripped apart. He was never repulsed by you though, that I can say for sure. And as to why he went with me instead of you…"

The last part grabbed Jordan's attention, her mind racing back to the day she had accused him of her older sibling's death. "I thought you said you didn't know why he left with you."

"I didn't until recently, but –"

"How recently? How do you know now when you didn't know two months ago?"

"God, Jordan, do you want to know why he left with me or not?"

Folding her arms aggressively over her chest, the brunette woman allowed him to continue.

"The _reason_," Percival continued forcefully, "why Ben left with me and not you, was because…"

_But what he doesn't get – what neither of them gets – is that while Jordan is my sister, Percival is my brother. I know my sister more than anyone else, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that she'll be okay out there; that she doesn't need me in order to survive. Jack alone will give her a reason to keep on fighting; to keep on waking up every morning._

_ But what reason did Perry have?_

It was the last part of Ben's reasoning that struck a chord with Percival; the implication behind it one that he didn't think of until now.

Tone softer than it had been just seconds ago, the older man carried on with his explanation. "The reason Ben left with me and not you was because he thought I needed him more. He thought…he thought you were strong enough to make it on your own; that Jack would be your motivation to wake up every day and keep going. He chose me because I was alone, not because he loved me anymore than he did you. He chose me because I didn't have anyone, anything… Because I didn't have a reason to keep on going. I think…I think he might have thought that I'd just go ahead and end it…"

Shocked, Jordan could only stare up at him. The older man was expecting more questions about how he knew any of what he just told her, but instead, he was asked a question he had never been asked in his life."Were you?" she asked quietly. "Did it ever cross your mind?"

Despite the waterfall cascading in the background, despite the usual noise that a jungle brought along, the air seemed uneasily still as the two of them stood and stared at one another; Jordan's question lingering in the space between them. When the silence stretched on and the tension ceased to expire, Percival did the only thing he could think of: answer truthfully.

"Well?" she asked again.

Silence, and then –

"Briefly."

The curly haired pirate watched his ex-wife's eyes bulge, if only for a second, before her hands shot up and pushed him with a force he hadn't expected in the least. Back having been turned towards the lake, Percival was only able to hear her shout, "You _IDIOT!_" before landing into the water with a _splash._

Engulfed by the very same atmosphere he had previously sought out for comfort, the older man struggled for just a moment before remaking his way to the surface. When a pair of familiar hands pressed down on his shoulders the instant he took in more oxygen, the physician almost thought she was drowning him. It wasn't until he felt her pressed against his torso – skin clearly exposed – did he realize that she was in the water now too. Startled, he opened his eyes just in time to see her lunge; lips meeting lips for the first time in thirteen years.

Captain Percival didn't protest.

**-MV-**

Jonathan watched in silence as the creature he had followed through the jungle circled Jack's feet lovingly. The brunet was surprised when the blonde reached down to pick the little guy up, but even more surprised when the animal actually let him. "What is that?" John asked curiously.

"It's a Solenodon."

Jonathan nodded, though he never heard of such a name before. "Is he your pet?"

"You can call him that, sure. He's been following me since we got here, so I guess I'm his owner of, what now, two months…? Something like that…"

Jonathan winced, Jack's obvious disdain for still being on the island apparent. Still, at least the two of them were talking, amiably enough. No need to stop the conversation now. "Can I pet him?"

"Sure," the older teen responded. "Just keep in mind that he's poisonous."

The brunet blanched upon his newest bit of information, his outstretched hand withdrawing as he recalled his almost fatal error of trying to pet him from before.

"Don't be scared," Jack said in response to his gesture, voice still oddly indifferent. "I mean, you should be cautious, but they rarely go after people."

"Why?"

Jack gave a half shrug, as if not quite knowing how to answer. "I guess…they just don't really have a reason to."

When silence surrounded them both, Jonathan began to squirm, not wanting their conversation to end. He wasn't sure what they were supposed to talk about, exactly, but he knew that they couldn't stop there.

Mind whirling with what it was he should say next, he couldn't help but startle when Jack was the one to break the silence. "What's he like?"

The thirteen-year-old frowned, wondering why Jack was asking him about a topic in which he was clearly more knowledgeable. "'What's he like?' Well, he seemed friendly enough when I followed him here, but I don't really –"

"Not the Solenodon, John. I meant Captain Percival."

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably, not quite knowing how to respond. Was he supposed to lie and say that his father was "just okay" in order to spare him more pain? To make him feel as though he wasn't missing out? Then again, Jack had probably been lied to his whole _life _about the Captain. Did he really want to be on that list of people who tricked him?

Inhaling softly, Jonathan did the only thing he could do in his situation: answer truthfully. "He's amazing."

John watched on as Jack visibly winced. It almost seemed painful for him to hear, and for a brief moment, the brunet wondered if he really should have lied. At least until the sixteen-year-old spoke again.

"Amazing," he repeated, allowing the description of his father to truly sink in. "From all the stories I've heard at different ports, I can't say I'm surprised… I guess it's the story from my mother that I always heard too; the one that makes this all so… I don't know."

Already having a feeling as to what his answer would be, John asked the question anyway; wanting confirmation on his gradually growing suspicion. "What did she tell you? About the Captain, I mean. What did she tell you when you asked her about him?"

Jack's jaw tightened, a clear sign that he was suppressing something, as the hand that pet his Solenodon became unconsciously rougher. "She told me that he left us; she told me that he never really cared."

It was Jonathan's turn to be mad now; hearing such words – such _lies_ – about Captain Percival. It chewed away at his heart strings; the idea that anyone would say that about his father. Still, he felt more sympathetic than anything. After all, he wasn't the one who'd been lied to; at least not like that. "Did she, you know…say sorry?"

"Not in so many words," he told him. "I kind of blew up at her, and she looked…she looked really hurt, you know? Regretful… We haven't talked since then, except for when she was giving out orders on the way to this island. She couldn't look at me though; _wouldn't _look at me. I guess that's her apology there; the fact that she even feels bad about it at all, but now…now, I don't know what to do. I don't even know how to feel, and part of me…a part of me blames her for that too."

Jonathan couldn't fault him for being mad at her about everything else, but not knowing how to feel? What did he even mean by that? When the brunet asked him, Jack was quick to explain.

"My mother's never been very emotional, even with me. I mean, I won't sit here and say she never hugged me. She did, especially when I was little, but growing up, there were never any lessons about 'talking it out' or 'sharing how you feel.' Now I'm here, feeling a _slew _of different things, and I don't even know what to do about it."

"I don't think you would have gotten that lesson growing up, even if Captain Percival had been there with you." It was the first time Jack looked at him since he first entered the clearing, having clearly not expected that answer. Little did he know, the brunet was surprised by his own response too.

"Oh yeah?" Jack queried.

"Yeah. I mean… Not because there weren't any emotions he was carrying_, _and _definitely _not because he wouldn't have wanted to teach you, it's just…Captain Percival, at least from everything I've been told, was a lot like, well…I guess how you are right now. His emotions would bottle up and he didn't really know what to do with them, so he'd either completely withdraw or, you know…tear up a room."

"Really…? Huh… I've teared up a few rooms in my lifetime. Maybe it's in my blood." A sad grin followed shortly after Jack's latest comment, the blonde secretly imagining their make-believe bond. Curious, a sudden thought occurred to him; a question he was dying to know. "You said you heard all of those things, right? I mean…did you know him when he was like that?"

Memories of first being yelled at by the Captain swarmed through Jonathan's mind; the memory of the first time he came up to him in front of the crew. It was almost bittersweet, really; how Percival ranting at him from fear of openly displaying his emotions had been such a huge, emotional travesty. It was amazing how now, it actually seemed rather silly. "I didn't meet him until a few years ago, but even when I met him, he was still learning how to handle everything he was so used to keeping secret, I think. He's gotten a lot better at it though. I don't know. I think it's because –"

"You," Jack interrupted. "It's because of you."

Jonathan's brown eyes grew wide, not being able to identify whether or not the accusation was a positive or a negative one. "I wasn't going to say that. I just –"

"But it's true, isn't it? You healed him. I can sense it. You got to play the part that I always wanted to play."

Conflicted, John moved forward, hoping his next words were the right thing to say. "You can still be that person," the brunet coaxed. "You can still be a part of his life; you can still make him happy."

"Pft, yeah…like he would even want me as a part of his life, knowing I helped murder those people… I'm sure the gun to his head was another point in my favor."

Wow, talk about sarcastic. This kid really _was _the Captain's son. "Those people died because of your mom's doing, and even _that _was a mistake."

"How do you know?"

Jonathan flinched as Jack turned to him sharply, the Solenodon jumping out of his hold in the process. "How do you know she wasn't lying? How do you know it was a mistake? How do you know she didn't set the whole thing up? She made up those lies about my father, didn't she? So really, how do you know?"

With Jack clearly on the verge of exploding, John did his best to answer right away; making his point as clear as humanly possible. "I saw her face when she saw those towns, and I'm telling you, Jack, she had no idea she'd been doing that." The mental scar that was seeing those bodies flashed before his eyes, causing Jonathan to stop, swallow, and breathe. "I'm not saying that excuses her actions, but it certainly proves that she's not a heartless monster. As for her lies about your fath –" It was the first time the brunet stumbled when addressing the teen in front of him, but the words that had almost left his mouth… Could he do it? Could he really refer to _his _father – _his _Captain Percival – as Jack Sullivan's father too?

And just like that, Jonathan stopped looking at Jack as Percival's son. Instead…instead, he started looking at him as _a _son. A son of a mom who loved him, but didn't always know how to show it. A son who saw very little of his father growing up; who was made to feel as though he never even cared. It was a story that Jonathan could relate to; a similarity that, up until now, he had never even thought of. "Your father loves you," he told him bluntly. "God, Jack, he…he loves you more than I can even begin to describe." Tears stung at the back of Jonathan's eyes, his jealousy melting away as he saw the blonde wearing a similar expression to his own. "He loves you so much. You think threatening him the way you did will change that? You're wrong, Jack. _Nothing _will change that. But you know what else? I bet your mom loves you too."

The recent trials between him and Percival came back to him all at once; the older man not telling him about Jack; the look on his face when he said that he hated their life… "Your mom shouldn't have lied to you. I'm sure a part of it was from a selfish place; I'm sure a part of it was out of wanting to protect herself, but you know what? I don't think that's all there was to it. I think…I think she wanted to protect the _both _of you. I think she wanted to protect your relationship. She…she probably didn't know how you'd react if she told you the truth. She was probably just…she was probably just scared. Afraid of what you'd think of her, afraid of losing you, afraid of what's happening right now. Don't not forgive her, Jack. You'll…you'll miss out. You'll miss out on what can be the most healing relationship of your life. You'll miss out on truths that have been kept buried, feelings that the both of you thought would never be shared out loud… You'll miss out if you choose to stay angry, and you'll _definitely _miss out if you don't at least try to let Captain Per – your _father_ into your life."

Silence stretched on before them as the blonde stared up at the tree tops; Jonathan's words echoing through his mind and bringing him to his decision. "'Your father,'" he repeated softly. Turning back to Jonathan, Jack shoved his hands in his pockets, his next words casual but unarguably sincere. "You meant our father, right?"

It was the biggest John had smiled since hearing Percival say, "I love you." Jack's words warmed him up like a hot bath; the mystery that was their futures just a little bit brighter. "Yes," he finally managed. "That's exactly what I meant."

**-MV-**

Percival stepped onto the ship behind Jordan, not at all getting why they were on _the Lost Siren_ when they _should _have been searching for their kids. Neither Jonathan nor Jack had showed up at the lake (which, for a while there, was a good thing, since nobody wants to see their parents have sex) but after waiting for several more minutes, the Captain had demanded that they move. When Jordan complied, he thought they were going to search the island, but for reasons beyond his understanding, they were now on the used to be "Ghost Ship."

"Jordan, this is ridiculous. What in the hell are we - ?"

Captain Sullivan cut him off as she marched over to the main mast, untying a rope that was kept around its middle until it dangled beneath what she had hung there. They weren't unusual to see aboard a ship, quite truthfully, but these things were just flat out _big._

"What on earth?"

The brunette woman shocked him with a smile; one that was genuine and void of any and all cynicism. "Watch, Per. Watch, listen, and wait."

**-MV-**

After the serious part of their conversation had subsided, the two teens talked for a while longer. It wasn't until the topic of John following his Solenodon came up again that Jack asked what he'd been meaning to ask from the beginning. "Why did you follow him, anyway?"

"Besides having a feeling that I should, I was, well…I was lost." The brunet blushed as the Lion Boy merely grinned.

"Lost, huh? Well, it shouldn't be too hard to find _the Lost Siren _again. Though I'll admit to having never spent time in this particular clearing before…"

The two looked around at the various paths they could take, wondering where to begin. It wasn't until the familiar sound of bells erupted through the air that both teenagers stopped; heads turning to where the sound had joyously made itself known. "Those bells," Jonathan reflected. "Is that, I mean… The night that I first met you…"

Jack smiled warmly as his attention stayed focused on the direction in which the bells tolled. "Yes," he answered quietly. "They're tied to the main mast on _the Lost Siren._"

Suspicions confirmed, Jonathan asked his next question; one he had not thought about in over two months. "Who's ringing them?"

"Anybody can ring them, but today…today, I know it's my Mom."

"Why?" John asked curiously. "What do they mean?"

Jack turned to him and smiled; his expression uncharacteristically warm as he let the bells engulf him. "Come home."

_**A/N:**__ I don't have much to say here, believe it or not, so I'll leave it at this: Thank you again for all of your feedback and patience. It means the world to me, it really does, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. Until next time!_


	19. Chapter XIX

_**A/N: **__Oh, Lordy, will you look at the calendar? The fact that I'm looking at a whole new calendar from the last time I posted should be saying something right there. Forty-two days. It's never taken me forty-two days to post a new chapter, but I guess there's a first time for everything… I posted a note on my profile discussing when I would post the next (and last) chapter, but I know the likelihood of everyone having seen that is slim. That being said, I truly do apologize for the long wait. Without getting into my life story as far as the last month or so goes, I can at least say that my taking this long was not due to no longer caring about my readers, this story, and everything in between. I've hated having to put this on the backburner these past several weeks, and even the one-shots I managed to write I just barely fit in, but trust me when I say it's a relief to be writing this again, as the ending's just been dying to get out. Still, I sincerely do apologize to everyone who has been reading this story so far, and can assure you that __**the last chapter will be posted, at the very latest, on the 17**__**th**__** of this month.**__ Anyway, I hope you've all been doing well during my unintentional-hiatus, as I like to call it, and that this chapter was worth the wait. _

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter XIX:**

"_But the search ends here where the night is totally clear, and your heart is fierce, so you finally know that you control where you go. You can steer."  
-Steer, by Missy Higgins-_

It didn't take long for the rest of the crew to join both Captains and their sons by the now inhabited _Lost Siren._ After all, who wouldn't follow a chorus of bells when having no other clue to go on? It was pretty amusing though; watching both crews tense up at the sight of Jordan and Percival together. Jonathan couldn't tell what made them cringe more: when they first saw them together and thought that one was going to kill the other, or when they realized that they were standing together voluntarily_._

"Glad you could join us, ladies," the comment was made by the auburn haired pirate, whose son, Jonathan, stood at his left.

"Not that we could blame you, since getting here faster would have required you to run through the jungle, ruining your delicate garments in the process." _That _comment was made by the brunette woman, who was standing next to Percival with her son, Jack, on her right.

Jonathan couldn't help but feel bad for both crews, but at the same time, it was mildly funny as the realization of what was happening slowly showed on their various expressions.

_Oh dear God in Heaven, they're pairing up!_

"Well don't just stand there," Captain Percival demanded after a moment. "Help us set up!"

It was Christopher who had the courage to speak first, his tentative hand rising into the air before doing so. "Um…Captain? What exactly are we setting up for?"

All were surprised when the older man grinned, and not a grin that said, "Here comes your slow and painful demise," but a grin that was genuinely pleased. "The skies are clear and the wind is at ease; a perfect day for sailing, and, last I checked, camping. Come on board and gather your hammocks, gentlemen. We're spending the night."

**-MV-**

On the beach of Ben and Percival's island (or so Jonathan had taken to calling it) a bonfire rose high up into the air; its flames double the height of the pirate and borderline licking the sky. Around its comforting heat were the crews of _the Sacred Heart_ and _the Lost Siren; _the lot of them eating, drinking, and talking of their various adventures. Laughter filled the air and made Jonathan's chest swell with warmth, but fuzzy feelings for some wasn't always fuzzy feelings for others. As the brunet continued to gaze at the scene before him, he noticed a lone figure far away from their setup. Recognizing him almost instantly, Jonathan felt his head fill with doubts as he debated on whether or not to go over there. Guilt ridden, the teen's conscious berated him for leaning towards no for even a second. _You may not be particularly close, but he's still a part of your family, so you better get on over there, Johnny, and I do mean now._ Swallowing hard, the brunet left the buoyant laughter of both crews and headed down towards the farthest part of the shore.

The tallest of them stood staring out at the ocean, broad muscles tense as Jonathan came up and stood beside him. Blue eyes dared a glance at the man he had come to fear, not quite knowing what to do in their current situation. When the tallest of them shifted just a little, Jonathan instinctively flinched, automatically preparing himself to be chased, lifted into the air, or anything that would make his stomach plunge with worry.

"Relax," Shilling Guy finally said. "I'm not going to do anything."

Jonathan swallowed. Even the way he was talking seemed different. There was no mischief in his voice; no on-coming gloom. It was like he was staring at an entirely different person, and quite frankly, he didn't like it. He'd take the teasing and the poking over this person any day. It reminded him too much of the somber individual that appeared after finding those deceased villages… "What are you doing out here?" the thirteen-year-old finally asked. "Don't you want to join us? We went fishing earlier, you know, for tonight's dinner. The fire cooked it up perfectly, if you're hungry…"

"No. Thanks."

Silence encased them both as they stared out and into the open sea. What was he supposed to say right now? What was he supposed to do? Did he consider the tallest of the crewmen a part of his family? In the scary, older, uncle way, yes. Did he have any idea how to go about talking to him seriously? Absolutely not.

"There's a lot of good food over there," he tried again awkwardly. "Some, um…good stuff..." _Why are you so stuck on food?_ his conscious berated. _Get off of food!_

"I can't go over there," the older pirate confessed. "I can't do it."

Eyebrows furrowed curiously, the brunet turned to his pseudo-enemy, looking at him for some sort of explanation. "Why not?"

It was a moment before the older man could answer, but when he did, it made the young teen's heart sink to the lowest depths of his stomach.

"I can't eat with the same crew that killed all of those people. I can't pretend to be okay with them."

"Well, I mean…" Jonathan trailed off, not quite knowing what to say. After all, what _did _he mean? What on earth could he say right now that would convince the older man otherwise? It's not like he could blame him for thinking those things, not after all that they had been through, not after –

"I buried those bodies," the taller man managed. "I buried their victims more times than I care to remember. Now I'm supposed to be fine with them. No, not just fine; I'm supposed to be their _friends._ It's like everyone just forgot that we've been hunting them down for months now; that they're the very same reason we set sail again in the first place. We should be bringing them back for a trial, not camping out with them, yet here we are, swaying by the fire as if nothing's wrong at all. And why? Because the Captain and wifey made up? I'm angry, but I'm even angrier that I'm the only one who seems to get what's wrong."

Jonathan stared out at the ocean, stunned. He'd known the taller pirate since he was eleven, and yet he never heard him talk like that, not even once. Still, his anger was more than understandable, and quite frankly, John had been wondering exactly where they'd go from here as well. Was it to their town they'd be taking Captain Sullivan and her lot, or with them? And even if they _were_ to come with them, where would they go? Home, their original destination, seemed impossible if they were to take Jordan for any other reason than a trial. Governor Corman would be waiting there for the pirates responsible; he'd be waiting there for Captain Percival to show up with the enemy. What, then, were they going to do?

Still, as these questions plagued the young brunet, he knew of only one thing for sure, and it was this belief he decided to share with the pirate. "I trust Captain Percival," he said evenly. "I'm…at a bit of a loss here too. I don't know where we're going next or what exactly the Captain has planned, but I trust his judgment."

"I do too. Usually. But his sudden decision to pair up with her –"

"Actually, I'm not too sure about that one." Thinking back, Jonathan realized at once that they never declared themselves a team. He and Jack had returned back to the vessel, saw the two standing together, and had then gravitated towards their respective parent. Both parties had assured the other that they were alright; that they weren't in any kind of danger. From there, Jordan went back to ringing the bells until the crews showed up, and everything just sort of took off. The only _real_ announcement that had been made was that they were spending the night on the island. "They're together as in, 'I don't want to slit her throat anymore,' but I'm not entirely sure what their plans are as a whole."

"But don't tell me as his kid, it doesn't bother you; someone like our Captain standing next to her…"

Knowing now was not the moment to "whoop!" over being referred to as "his kid" by Shilling Guy, Jonathan answered respectively. "It would bother me if she turned out to be the she-devil we all thought she was; that even the Captain thought she was. Now that we know neither her or her crew meant to do what they did…

"Listen, I…the image of those towns will always haunt me, but when I saw them…when I saw them, my only thought was that a person would have to be soulless to commit such a horrible crime. But, I mean…have you met Jack yet? Jack, he…he told me once, before either of us really knew the other, that murder was the most despicable crime there was; that his _mother _taught him that. You see, it's not that they were soulless, it's that they were _clueless._ I'm not saying what they did was…that what they did should be easy to swallow, but there's a big difference from someone who set out to kill compared to someone who thought they were stealing stuff. A big difference, I think, and I believe the Captain understands that."

The older man continued to stare out at the sea, clearly conflicted. Jonathan believed in the truth behind his words, but at the same time, he could more than understand the taller pirate's dilemma, especially when his next words were something he had pondered on himself. "So they didn't mean to," Shilling Guy added. "Does that mean that all consequences are now thrown out the window? That they get away with hundreds of murders because, 'whoops,' it was a mistake?"

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably, not quite knowing how to answer. He trusted the Captain's judgment, but it's not as though Shilling Guy's concerns weren't understandable. Wanting to give him a better answer but not knowing what to say, Jonathan looked down at the powdery sand beneath him, kicking some as though he'd been defeated. "I don't know," he finally answered.

After a moment or two of waiting for a response, the brunet turned to leave when he realized he wasn't getting one. It wasn't until he was a good ten feet away did the taller man speak up. "Bring me back some fish, would you?"

Smiling, Jonathan nodded, preparing to bring back the largest fish of the bunch.

**-MV-**

A rush of questions and doubts swirled through the Captain's mind as he stood by the great body of _the Sacred Heart_, watching both his crew and Jordan's merge together around the bonfire. While his announcement about spending the night had been under the guise of a celebration, part of him choosing to stay there was in order to allow him more time to think. They had what they set out for; the deadly crew of "The Ghost Ship." All they had to do now was sail them home and hand them over to Governor Corman. Easy, right?

Yeah…not so much.

It would have been easy, had he not found out that Jordan and the rest of her crew had no idea what they'd been doing, and it _definitely_ would've been easy had his biological son not been involved. How in God's name was he expected to hand his own child over to someone like Corman, especially if the result was going to end in a hanging?

Percival closed his eyes and breathed in sharply through his nose. God, he didn't want to think about that. He _couldn't_. The only thing more traumatizing than that would be if Jonathan was up there with him…

Thrusting his body off of the ship and cursing his wandering mind, Percival walked over to the bonfire, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do now. Jordan's actions may have been unintentional, and yes, he may have found feelings for her he had previously declared dead, but that didn't mean what she did to those towns just simply didn't happen. He and What's-His-Name had buried those bodies more times than he cared to remember, and nothing, even the knowledge that her killings were accidental, was going to change that.

But to hand her over to Governor Corman knowing that she could very well be hanged? He just couldn't do that to her, even on a bad day. And with Jack involved in everything now too…

Speaking of Jack…

Eyes still focused on the various pirates around the fire, it wasn't long at all before the older man realized that a certain blonde teenager was missing. Blue eyes immediately ventured away from the flames to focus on every visible corner of their set up, penetrating the night sky around him in order to seek out his son. His eyes paused for a moment when he noticed the unmistakable silhouettes of the Big Guy and Jonathan. Oddly enough, it appeared they were talking, rather than the usual scene that was the tallest of them torturing the brunet. Seeing that they were in conversation, Percival continued his search, until at last, he noticed the teenager.

Jack was sitting on an oddly shaped palm tree; it's trunk reaching out beyond the beach and over the on-coming tide. He was yards away from their setup; back facing the lot of them as his feet dangled lifelessly above the water.

Percival watched him, conflicted. When Jack had boarded _the Lost Siren_ with Jonathan earlier that day, he had caught the older man's eye for the first time since their last encounter. It was also the first time he'd looked at him with something other than a scowl, but the auburn haired pirate had been unable to identify what he'd seen there. Still, his heart ached to go talk to him. What kept him from moving, however, was the fear of rejection. Even knowing that Jack had finally been told the truth about his childhood – about being taken away from his father – still didn't make the idea of being rejected more than probable, and that, well… That scared the hell out of him.

Still, Percival knew he had to initiate the conversation. Jack was not going to talk to him unprompted, and quite frankly, the older man couldn't blame him.

Reaching into his pocket to make sure the item was still there, Captain Percival breathed in deeply before making his way over to the tree.

It didn't take long for him to get there, though it did take a bit longer for him to make his way onto where Jack was sitting. _It should _not _hurt my back to climb this tree, damn it!_ Ignoring the stab of pain that reminded him he was getting older, the pirate took a seat next to his son. Jack's tense shoulders indicated that he saw him there, but the boy had yet to look at him. Not wanting to force anything on the teen, Percival quietly withdrew the item from his pocket, placing it gently next to the blonde.

The teenager let out a little gasp as his fingers reached out for the item, tips grazing the red velvet pouch as if he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

"Found that at – While we were out at sea. Jonathan did, actually, but he gave it to me after doing so. Thought you'd want it back…"

Percival was surprised when his reaction was to laugh, though he did not miss how small it sounded; how painfully alone and sad. "Must have really freaked him out," he said softly, "to find out his new friend was a cold blooded killer."

The older man visibly winced at the self-hatred in Jack's voice. Before walking over to the blue eyed pirate, his worst fear was that Jack would hate him. He hadn't even thought about the possibility of the teen hating himself, and somehow, that upset him more. "Jonathan doesn't think you're a killer."

When Jack's reply was to hunch over, Percival realized what he had actually been waiting to hear. More than eager to comply, the older man added on to his previous comment. "I don't think you're a killer either, Jack."

Maybe it was the sound of his name on his father's lips, but something inside Jack Sullivan snapped. Percival watched in a rare bout of surprise as the blonde teen stood up violently on the tree, balance unaffected as he spread his arms out in question. "How do you not!" he practically cried. "How do you not look at me and think, 'Killer?' You're Captain Percival! You're the man I've heard tales about all of my life. The legendary captain who never kills, but always gets the gold! The captain of the underdogs; turning boys into men, turning sea rats into lions. I've _always_ wanted to be like you, yet here I was, being told _other _tales about the very same man by an entirely different source. All of my life I've wanted a father; one that I hoped wouldn't abandon me too. All of my life, I wanted a father like Captain Percival. Here it turns out, my father _is _Captain Percival, and not only that, he didn't abandon me at all! Happy day, right? _Wrong! _I've finally, _finally _got what I've always wanted, but it isn't a dream come true. _It's a nightmare!_ Because all this time, I was training myself to be that perfect son _just _in case I ever met my father. I wanted him to see the boy he abandoned. I wanted him to feel _ashamed._ But I was also training myself to be the perfect pirate; one that would fit Captain Percival's standards so that, when I grew up and had my own ship, I'd be able to sail under his command. Now here it is, my dream realized, except I'm _anything _but perfect. All in one horrible revelation, I realized that I'm not anywhere _close _to who I wanted to be. I'm a killer. A murderer. There's blood on my hands that will never, _ever_ come off. I'm not worthy of you; father and Captain alike. I can't look at you. I can't talk to you. You're just a reminder of how hard I failed; of everything I've ruined. I've wanted this forever – the mere chance to meet you, a father I could trust – and I can't have it because of something _I _did. I've ruined everything I ever wanted without even realizing it, and there's no way for me to make it all right."

It was a long moment before the older man replied, but when he did, the corners of his mouth turned up into a small, heartbreaking smile. "Wow," he replied softly. "You really are my son, aren't you? That was a pretty impressive rant there, kiddo."

And suddenly, Jack deflated. In one, worn out motion, the boy practically collapsed back onto the tree. The sixteen-year-old wouldn't allow himself to cry – a trait he apparently got from his father as well – but he didn't stop his shoulders from shaking as he buried his head in his hands; his body twitching here and there as if fighting off a panic attack.

Percival ached to put his hand on his shoulder; to ease the pain as much as he could. A part of him was even tempted to get up and leave, Jack's confession about him being there making him hate himself even more. Still, he knew he needed to stay. It was the only way he could _really_ help ease Jack's pain. "I'm not sure if your mother's ever told you this, but my ego is the size of the ocean. If anyone else had looked at me and said things along the lines of not deserving to be in my presence, I'd be walking on air. But after hearing you say all that, I think my legendary ego is as small as it's ever been before. It's deflated into nothing, because honestly, you couldn't be farther from the truth."

Jack looked at him between splayed fingers; eyes staring desperately as he searched his father's expression. "How?" he asked quietly. "How are you not repulsed?"

"Because I've been there," Percival confessed suddenly. "I've killed without realizing it too."

Jack emerged from his place behind his hands; blue eyes wide and attentive as he finally let the curly haired pirate look at him. "What?" he asked in astonishment.

Quietly, Captain Percival told Jack about how he became a pirate. How he was damned to the sea after being set up to look as though he killed three patients. "It may have been a set up, I may not have realized what I was doing, but I was the one that instructed those surgeons to go ahead with the procedure, unaware that Robert had affected their organs. The guilt that was their deaths haunted me for years, and while I finally came to realize that it wasn't my fault, it still manages to plague me, even now."

Jack wasn't looking at Percival, but it was clear he was taking his words very seriously; every syllable a new morsel to savor. "So," he finally commented. "You were set up too; just the way I was set up by my mother…"

"No."

The teen turned to the Captain, startled, and although he couldn't tell by his expression, Percival had startled himself. "Listen, Jack… I wouldn't defend your mother if I thought she didn't deserve it, _trust _me, but when Robert set me up, he knew damn well what he was doing. He let me kill three innocent people just because he didn't want me around anymore. Your mother didn't 'set you up' though. She had no idea what was happening to those people either, and believe it or not, the result has affected her deeply."

Jack was silent for a long moment, blue eyes deep in thought, and then, "She's really hurt, isn't she; the fact that we haven't talked in months…"

Percival nodded. "She won't show it, but you and I both know that she never really does. She loves you though, kid, more than I think you realize."

"I love her too," the teen responded instantly. "It's why –" A sudden look of embarrassment crossed over his expression as he looked back at his father, clearly ashamed. "Oh dear God in heaven, how are you even _talking_ to me right now?"

Confused, the auburn haired pirate asked him what he was talking about.

"Last time I saw you, I put a gun to your head! You're not, I mean… How are you not - ?"

"You did that to protect your mother, Jack. If someone was threatening my family, I would have done the same thing." Percival couldn't help but recall the day he killed Robert after he had not only killed Ben, but was threatening to do the same to Jonathan. That was a story for another day, though…

"You know I wouldn't have pulled the trigger though, right…?"

The older man nodded.

"Okay, well, good…"

Only then did silence encase them; the air a bit awkward, but somehow…_cleansed._ The two pirates had a long way to go when it came to making up for lost time, but more than ever before, Percival was ready to take all the time they needed. As far as he was concerned, he and Jack had been waiting for this moment from the minute he was taken away, and he was _not _going to let it go.

Little did he know, Jack was thinking the very same thing.

**-MV-**

Tired from a night of tossing and turning, Jonathan wasn't ready for the hand that shook him awake. Opening his still heavy eyelids, the brunet stared up at the man who he'd wake up for no matter how exhausted he was. "Cap'n?" he asked sleepily.

The auburn haired pirate drew a finger to his lips, indicating that he was to be quiet. It was only then that John noticed the sun just beginning to rise, begging the question as to why they were up in the first place.

Still, if the Captain wanted up, then John would get up.

Stretching, the teen hopped off the hammock and followed his father through the sand, noticing once they got there that _the Sacred Heart's _rope ladder was already thrown over the side. Following the older man in silence, Jonathan climbed straight up, accepting his father's hand as he hoisted him over the railing.

"Sorry about that, kid," Percival said once they were onboard. "But I figured you'd want to be a part of this decision making."

Letting out a small yawn, the younger pirate rubbed one of his eyes, doing his best to wake himself up for what he sensed was fairly important. "What are we deciding on?

"Our decision as to how to handle Jordan."

Jonathan's eyes popped. If yawning and stretching didn't work, then _that _certainly did. "On how to handle her? What do you mean?"

"It means that I can't hand her over to Corman knowing that they'll most likely be hanged. It means we can't go back home with them since even someone as moronic as said Governor would eventually figure it out, and it means that Jordan will go completely free of punishment if we just don't do anything at all, which isn't exactly right there either."

It was the last part of the Captain's rant that sent John's mind back to his late night conversation with Shilling Guy. It seemed the two of them were in the same mindset, whether they realized it or not. "Does Jor – Captain Sullivan know we're having this conversation?"

"No in that I didn't tell her – or anyone, for that matter – but yes in that I know she's not stupid. I'm sure she's well aware of my dilemma, fully knowing I won't bring her back to Corman, but she knows we can't just wave a dismissive hand at what her pillaging caused, and quite frankly, I don't think she'd want us to."

Jonathan felt his eyebrows come together in puzzlement, not having expected that last bit of information in the least. "Are you saying she wants to be punished?"

A pause, and then, "Yeah, kid, that's exactly what I'm saying. Look, Jordan and I have butt heads way before your time, but one of the reasons we're at each other's throats is because we share some similar characteristics. One of those traits just happens to be a distaste for receiving sympathy; something that the she-devil _loathes. _Giving her the sad puppy eyes that scream, 'I'm so sorry for you,' has always hit her harder than a slew of heated words. Now I'm not saying the woman wants to _die_ over this, but I do know that her conscious has been clawing at her sanity since finding out what happened to those towns. I actually think getting away Scott free would make her turmoil even worse, and while that could easily be used as some sort of punishment, I would rather…I would rather not do that to her…"

Jonathan nodded softly, understanding the Captain's words without further explanation.

"That being said," the older man started up again, "I don't think it's right to let her mind go to hell and back for the rest of her life, but I don't think it's right for her to walk away from this whole thing unscathed, either."

When Percival didn't follow up on his latest remark, Jonathan couldn't help but wonder what he was waiting for. It was only when he crossed his arms and flicked his nose did he realize that the _Captain_ was waiting for _him. _

"I, um…" Jonathan blushed. Since when did the Captain involve him in important decision making? He hadn't thought about it up until now, most likely from being woken up so early, but once he stopped to reflect on the older man's earlier words, it did seem pretty odd. Feeling both flattered and incredibly awkward, the thirteen-year-old cleared this throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets before giving his opinion on the matter. "Well, maybe we should think about where we're going before talking about Captain Sullivan. I mean, if we're not bringing her in for a trial, then we obviously can't go home yet, but if we're not ready to go home, then where _can _we go?"

"Actually, I've been giving that one a lot of thought…"

The change in the air was palpable as Percival suddenly went from authoritative Captain to Jonathan's father. The brunet watched as the older man moved to the side of the railing that faced the ocean; the sun's morning rays reflecting on the surface and making it shine.

"You really wanted to come out here, didn't you?"

The words caught Jonathan off guard. Was he talking about the island, or - ?

"When we were back home, after we finally settled down, you snuck out to visit _the Sacred Heart _on nights where you were missing the sea. By the fingerprints that covered your sword on days I got home after you, I'm guessing you gave your weapon a few good practice swings too, just for good measure."

Jonathan turned scarlet as all of his secret actions were revealed. His attempt to fill the void that was his former life of piracy felt like years ago now; the notion of their home together making him feel nostalgic. A part of him wanted to apologize for his sneaking around, but something in the older man's voice told him he didn't have to.

Back still turned towards the brunet, Percival continued. "That night you found me at _the Sacred Heart_ wasn't the first time I visited her, you know, and if we had stayed at that town any longer, it certainly wouldn't have been the last."

Jonathan swallowed as the older man turned around to face him, mind a mess of thoughts as he waited for the Captain to continue. "Do you remember Governor Hutnik?"

The brunet tilted his head, surprised. Of course he remembered Hutnik, but why was he bringing him up? "Yes, I remember him," he responded curiously. "Why?"

"Because he said something to me before we left. You were standing next to me, at the time. Do you remember?"

Jonathan thought. In his memory, most of that day had revolved around the revelation thereafter; Jack's pouch that was given to him right before leaving. But it was then, only mere seconds before said occurrence, that the conversation between Percival and Hutnik had taken place.

_"Take care, Governor Hutnik. You're a good man."_

_ "As are you, Doctor Percival. Thank you for assisting my people. You would be surprised to learn how many of these small towns are still without a physician, even the ones who haven't been hit."_

_ "I don't think I would, but despite popular belief, that doesn't mean I don't give a damn."_

Yes, he _did _remember. It was the first time Jonathan himself was realizing how many towns were still in dire need of medical attention. "I remember," he answered finally. "And wait, didn't Governor Callahan –"

"Exactly."

This time, the memory didn't take long to come back to Jonathan at all.

_"Our harvest failed miserably this season, and our physician, already old in age, died in the process."_

Their town, too, had been desperately seeking help for their people. The lack of physicians at these small, humble villages was not just a random occurrence, but an epidemic. After all, hadn't Percival himself talked of becoming a physician solely based on need? If he hadn't been there, then his town would've just been another ignored village on the map that was their world.

"I've been thinking about this for a while now, Jonathan; long before we knew of Jordan and Jack's involvement. When I saw those towns in desperation, when I saw those towns that we were too late to help…

"Jonathan… I am a man driven by need. All of my life, it's dictated my actions; my decisions. Where I would plant myself, what I would do. But this isn't all about me anymore, is it? No, this is about you now, too. You and I are in this together, kid, and I'm not going to go sailing around creation if you're dying to get back home. You…you're my son, Jonathan, and it's _your _needs that come before mine; not the other way around."

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the fact that he hadn't truly talked to his father since getting lost yesterday afternoon, but Jonathan couldn't stop the onslaught of tears that stung at the back of his eyes, ever threatening to spill over. "I…thank you, Captain. If you want to know the truth though, it's…it's this: I would sail anywhere with you. If you're land bound, then so am I. If you're sea swept, then I am too. No matter where we end up next, I want to be right there with you."

Percival smiled; the kind of smile that was visibly genuine; the kind of smile that was Jonathan's favorite rarity. "Well then," he said after a moment or two, "It looks like we have a traveling hospital on our hands."

_**A/N:**__ Thank you guys again, sincerely, for having so much patience with me and this story. As always, I hope it was worth the wait, and that the end of this story (that _will_ be posted soon) will be worth the time you've put into reading this. Until then!_


	20. Chapter XX

_**A/N: **__Hey, everyone! I'm excited, nervous, and admittedly rather sad, to be presenting you with the last and final chapter of, "My Voyage." This story means a lot to me, and I hope, really hope, that it lived up to its predecessor. But more than just that, I hope that you guys – all of you – have enjoyed this story as well. It's been a long ride, and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your feedback and unwavering patience along the way; sincerely. I really hope you enjoy this final chapter (and forgive its extreme length) and that you enjoyed this story as a whole._

_**Side Note:**__ Thank you, __**Kiwi-satsuma-**__, for the song suggestion! It truly is their theme song._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I own a very large nothing._

**Chapter XX:**

"_You've got a journey to make; there's your horizon to chase, so go far beyond where we stand. No matter the distance, I'm holding your hand. Sail your sea, meet your storm; all I want is to be your harbor. The light in me will guide you home. All I want is to be your harbor."_

_-Harbor, by Vienna Teng-_

Once the sun had risen to an acceptable point in the sky, Captain Percival and the thirteen year old pirate went to wake up the others; _including_ Captain Sullivan's crew.

"My fi – Young Dorian and I have been discussing where it is we plan on heading towards next, and whatit is we'll be doing with_ you_ lot."

"W-What does that mean, C-Captain? I mean, why wouldn't we g-go with you?"

"Not _you,_ Nervous Guy, _them; _Jordan's crew of sea rats."

Jonathan tried not to visibly twitch as Jordan immediately took on a defensive stance; arms crossing over her chest as her left leg came out for a pose. "Oh, are you now? Funny how I wasn't aware…"

The auburn haired pirate flicked his nose and crossed his arms, clearly refusing to back down. "Don't act like this comes as a surprise to you, Jordan."

"Okay, let's stop right there for a second. You might be allowed to call me 'Jordan' on our own time, but here? In front of my crew? It's Captain Sullivan, _Perry_, and you know it."

The older man's eye twitched as his jaw became increasingly tighter. "Fair enough," he said evenly, "But God so help me if you_ ever_ call me Perry in front of my crew _again –"_

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Rage, rants, we get it. So what was all that about wondering what to do with us?"

Growling, Percival withdrew his gaze from Jordan to focus on the on-looking crews. "My crew and I are in something of a bind. As I'm sure you gathered from our last little get together, our whole purpose for returning to sea was to haul your sorry asses back to _my _town for a trial, but since the doing so of that plan would most likely end with a noose around your necks, it seems we have to rearrange our schedules. Of course, that _also _means we can't return home; at least not for a while. Therefore, Jonathan and I have come up with an idea that I want to run by _my _crew, since, quite frankly, your little 'Ghost Ship' doesn't get a say in the matter." Making a show of turning so that he faced only the crew of _the Sacred Heart,_ Percival made sure to look them straight on, wanting them to know that he _was _serious and actually _did _care about their opinion. Clearing his throat before speaking, the older man made his announcement. "What say you gentlemen if I were to announce that our vessel was to become the first traveling hospital in history?"

Jonathan watched, anxious, as eyes popped and jaws dropped. No one had been expecting that, clearly, but after the shock of the announcement settled over them, both pirates could see the rest of the crew sincerely taking it in. Of course, questions were going to arise, but the brunet had never known the crew of _the Sacred Heart_ to hold back from voicing their concerns.

As if on cue, Phillip raised his hand. After getting a nod from Percival, the surgeon made his opinion known. "Captain, the idea of traveling from town to town is appealing, but what of our own hospital, back home? What will become of our patients?"

Percival nodded, having already thought about Phillip's main worry (mainly because it had been one of his). "Not wanting to abandon our patients is a more than understandable concern, but bear in mind that we were not the only physicians who worked there. Everyone I hired, I did so because they were skilled, hard workers; professionals who actually gave a damn about their patients. We _will _return home when it's safe enough, and from there on out, I imagine it'll be something akin to our home port, but until then, I sincerely believe that our patients will be in more than capable hands."

Another hand shot into the air, its owner belonging to Christopher. "Baldy," Percival called out. "You have a question?"

Ignoring the nickname, the surgeon withdrew his hand before voicing his query. "Aye, Captain. How are we going to handle Governor Corman in all of this? He has to know that towns are safe so he doesn't send more people after _the Lost Siren._ He also has to tellSacred Heart that we won't be returning for a while so that the physicians know where they're needed."

"That, Turtle Top, is actually a well thought out dilemma, so before I give you your answer, major kudos to you for thinking."

Not knowing whether to growl or to grin, Turk stuck with a simple eye roll.

"Anyway, I've given that question of yours more thought than I care to admit, and no, not because it's coming from you, but because I've been worrying about said problem even before you voiced it. I in no way shape or form think we owe Governor Corman _any _kind of explanation, or for that matter, any kind of apology. You may have forgotten that it was _his _crew – his shiny, little Navy – that completely failed in helping those towns. The minute they saw that first one, they ran right back to Corman with their tails beneath their legs.

"However, you're right in that he still needs to know so that he doesn't send more crews out to search for us, and he _definitely _needs to know so that he can inform the other physicians of our absence. Jonathan and I will handle that one though. Next question?"

Surprised, John looked up at Percival, waiting for him to delve further into his response. He hadn't known he and the Captain were going to be taking care of the problem, or even _how _they were going to do it. When the older man didn't bother to make eye contact though, he figured it was a conversation for another time.

The next question was from Carla, surprising the auburn haired pirate just slightly. "Carla…?"

"Aye, Captain. I'm concerned about Elliot and I. I mean…are we going with your crew, or are we being taken back to our village first?"

Percival shrugged. "That's really up to you and Blondie now, isn't it? I have no control over your lives, though I will at least say that I wouldn't mind you staying with us…"

The Latina turned to look at Christopher, longingly. She and Turk had already discussed marriage, but the idea was that it would be back at his home town; once the two of them had a real place to settle into. Now that _the Sacred Heart_ was going back to sailing again, what was she supposed to do from there?

Not ready to give her answer, Carla nodded softly so that Percival would know to move on.

Expecting someone else from _the Sacred Heart_ to voice their question, all were surprised when Jordan decided to speak up. It wasn't really her need to step in that caught them off guard, but the question that came out of her mouth. "Can we help?"

Shocked, all attention turned towards the brunette woman, though _her _attention was focused only on Captain Percival. Jonathan could tell she was trying to be casual about it, but the anxiety in her eyes didn't lie. Truthfully, the teen expected an outright "_no,_" or an extra demanding, "_why?_" but for the longest time, the older man said nothing, as if dissecting why it was Jordan would want to help out others in the first place. After all, she was the one responsible for so many –

_Oh._

It all made sense now; from the question she asked to the very way she had asked it. The lack of venom in her voice, the seriousness in which she presented herself; even the anxiety in her stare as she waited for the Captain's response. Jordan hadn't asked because she wanted a free ride; a way to escape the noose while still being able to enjoy the sea. She had asked for the very same reason she would have been sentenced to death in the first place.

She had asked because of all the lives she had taken.

If Jordan were to come with them, if Jordan were to learn how to help heal the sick, then she would be given the chance to maybe, _just maybe_, save more lives than she had unknowingly killed.

She'd be given the chance for redemption.

Still, Jonathan knew it might take the rest of her life to do it – to save more than she had killed – but from what little he had already observed of her, Jordan was anything but an undetermined woman. When she set her mind to something, she was more than capable of conquering it, especially when wanting to be a good example for her son…

The thirteen-year-old glanced up at Percival, who was visibly drinking her in. His eyebrows were furrowed, but not out of confusion or anger, like Jonathan had thought before figuring it out himself. Instead, he looked on at her as if nobody else was watching; as if the two of them were having a conversation that no one was permitted to hear.

And truthfully, Jonathan couldn't blame them.

"Jordan," the Captain finally exhaled, "I admire you for wanting to do this, but you'd have to take the time and effort to learn; _really _learn, and this kind of practice isn't particularly easy…"

The brunette stiffened at the comment, not yet willing to give up. "If you don't want me to, just say it, but to say I can't because I'm apparently too unintelligent –"

"No," Percival interrupted. "I never said that. In fact, that's the one hateful comment I _haven't _said about you. I don't think it's too hard for you to learn, but I _do _think it requires more effort than you're willing to give…"

"Go ahead and say it, Per. Yes, I used to be what some might call 'lazy,' but don't you think I _may _have gotten over that little flaw of mine, what with raising a son by myself for the past ten years while simultaneously captaining an entire crew of pirates?"

When Percival immediately tensed, Jonathan knew what was coming. "I'd have more sympathy for ya' there, _Captain Sullivan,_ but that whole, 'by myself,' bit wasn't exactly my doing…"

Realizing that Jack was turning red at the not-so-subtle subject matter, Percival cleared his throat and moved on. "Besides, your entire ship couldn't trail ours if you and Jack were the only ones participating. Your entire crew would have to be for this as well."

Jordan spun sharply on her heel, back facing Percival as her eyes set firmly on her men. "What say you, guilty ghosts? Head on back to Captain Percival's town for a hanging, or redeem ourselves for the crimes committed under our flag?"

A chorus of "ayes!" and boisterous, "redemptions!" filled the air at once, prompting Captain Sullivan to turn around, smug grin in place, with her hands crossed over her chest. "You were saying?"

Percival pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly conflicted. It actually _was _a good idea, but something was still wrong with the situation; something that needed to be fixed. Only problem was, even _he _didn't quite understand what was off. "Okay, so your crew stands by you on this one, but you have to know that you and your lot aren't just going to be able to dive right into healing people. Most physicians and surgeons have to train on –" And then it hit him. The final piece to the puzzle; the one thing that still needed mending.

"The dead."

All eyes turned towards the tallest man they had ever seen; some of which were more than familiar with him, and others who just barely recognized him as a part of Captain Percival's crew. When Jonathan finally locked eyes with him as well, he couldn't help but nod. He knew he had no authority over Shilling Guy or that the older man would ever listen to him, but somehow, encouraging him to continue felt important.

That still didn't take away from the surprise when Shilling Guy actually nodded back.

"Captain, if I might –"

"Floor's yours, Big Guy."

Clearly not used to public speaking (or being serious, for that matter) Shilling Guy shifted awkwardly before speaking, clearing his throat a bit before getting into his point. "I'm not a physician, but I've been around your practice long enough to know that people just learning usually practice on the dead. My suggestion is that Jordan and her crew are made to practice on those bodies, just like everyone else."

"But not all families allow that. Some families much prefer to bury the body than have us take them as learning material."

"Then they'll bury them," Shilling Guy added in hurriedly, voice much more confident than before. "We're a traveling hospital now, right? There may be deaths before we even get there, or people that we just can't save. It should be a part of our services; offering to bury their loved ones. They should be made to do it, Captain. You _know _they should…"

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably as he witnessed the silent message that was being sent from Shilling Guy to Captain Percival. _We buried those bodies _together.We_ were left with _their_ victims._

When Percival's eyes shifted over to the blonde teenager, the tallest of them didn't miss it. Gaze now reconnected, Shilling Guy understood his Captain's silent plea, his nod a quiet answer to his query.

_Not Jack, Captain. I would never ask you to force Jack._

When John saw his father was still struggling, he began wondering if he ought to speak up. Knowing he really didn't have the authority to do so, the brunet had been preparing to bite his tongue. That is, until, he caught the Captain looking at him.

"What do you think, kid?" he asked quietly.

Stunned, Jonathan gave the most honest answer he could think of. "I think it's a good idea."

"You better not just be saying that, Newbie…"

Jonathan shook his head. "I'm not, Captain. I promise."

Inhaling slowly, Percival turned towards Jordan, eyes set firmly on his ex-wife before speaking. "Those are the rules, Captain Sullivan. If you want to sail under our flag, if you want to learn how to treat people, than you need to be taught seriously, just like everybody else, and you and your crew will be responsible for those who do not live through their treatments…"

Startled, Jonathan watched as Jordan tore her sword from her sheath, raising it into the air for the rest of her crewmates to follow. "Lads?" she asked fiercely.

"AYE!"

The air around them rang with approval, the crew of _the Sacred Heart_ even joining in on the declaration. Through the crowd, Jack caught the eye of his father, his own grin brighter than the island sun itself.

The blonde was finally getting what he always wanted: A chance to sail under Captain Percival and a father he could actually trust.

**-MV-**

Finally back on board of _the Sacred Heart _(with the crew of _the Lost Siren _behind them) both crews were ready to sail towards their next destination.

Well, if they had a destination to sail towards, that is.

While the rest of the crew dispersed into various chores (IE, pretending not to listen in) Christopher and Carla drifted over towards one of the railings, where the sea stretched out like a blanket of uncertainty. "Carla…"

The Latina woman looked up at him, brown eyes wide, as she already began shaking her head, knowing what it was he would say. "I have to go back, Turk."

"But the Captain said he was all for you saying. He said he'd even allow Elliot to stay if it meant you staying too."

The waitress tried not to smile at the image of Percival gruffly taking on Elliot at the risk of losing her; the gesture both bittersweet and comical. Still, the brunette knew her answer. "I have no qualms with staying out here with you and this crew, but Turk, it's better for us – _all_ _of us _– if I go back home until it's safe to go back to your town."

"But –"

"Listen, Turk, please. While you're out at sea, you're going to need a safe place, and not just some uninhabited island, but a place with real shelter and real food; a place with people that will accept you every time. You're going to need people there to fill you in on news and rumors alike; of the stories that continually flood through the restaurant. Elliot and I can do that for you better than anybody else there."

"But _everybody_ shares tales over there, baby. We could always pick up news from somebody else."

Carla shook her head, a small, sad smile gracing her pink, plump lips. "But nobody listens out for news _about _you.Nobody listens out for stories or tales that could be of value to you and this crew.

"Turk…Elliot and I are your family, and while it pains me to say this, the best thing for us right now is to be apart. I'll be able to help you more from port, even if…even if it hurts…"

The surgeon looked on, shocked, as water began to form at the corner of Carla's chocolate eyes. The only time he'd ever seen her mist over was when she was giving the crew her condolences in regards to Ben's death, but now…

Swallowing hard, Christopher realized that, much like Carla, it was time for him to change his plans too. He had intended to ask her once they were back at their town, but now that it was going to be a while… Somehow, he knew this was the right time. Somehow, he knew this would ease the pain, and not just for her, but for him as well.

Palms now coated in sweat, Christopher swallowed deeply before getting down on one knee, watching in controlled panic as Carla's eyes went from quietly sad to utterly and completely surprised.

Gingerly, the surgeon pulled out a ring.

"Carla Espinosa," he whispered shakily, "Will you marry me?"

**-MV-**

When Jonathan woke up next, he was on the main deck of _the Sacred Heart,_ but definitely not in his hammock. Feeling rather sore, the thirteen-year-old pulled himself into a sitting position, noticing at once the empty bottle of rum in his hand and the pounding headache that came with it.

Whoopsie.

Realizing he had fallen asleep on the deck itself, the brunet looked around at his fellow passengers, smiling.

After Carla had accepted Turk's proposal, the rest of the day had been spent celebrating. Rum had been brought up from the lower deck, ready to be consumed, while pirates from both ships had taken out their various musical instruments and played for whoever wished to dance. Jonathan could vaguely remember Percival keeping to his corner, sipping on rum but not getting drunk, while occasionally talking to Carla and even congratulating Turk. He could remember his best friend and brother lifting him high up into the air, the both of them celebrating happily while Jonathan pretended he was a seagull. That's when Turk went and got him his first bottle of rum, and that's when things started getting a little fuzzy.

Blue eyes grazing over the ship, Jonathan smiled as his gaze landed on both Carla and Christopher; their bodies curled into one another as they lay nestled against the main mast. They really were the perfect couple, and quite frankly, Jonathan couldn't have been happier for them if he tried.

Yes, the headache was definitely worth it, but as the first pirate up since passing out drunk, how was he going to kill the time?

Quietly, Jonathan stood up from his place on the deck, tip-toeing down the stairs and into their sleeping corridors. If there was anything wrong with last night's celebration, it was the missing presence of a highly missed first mate. Wanting more than anything to make up for that loss, Jonathan crept into his hammock, just like he used to, and removed Ben's journal from its compartment.

Yet, as the book rested in his palms once again, an overwhelming ache filled the young teen's chest as he realized what was getting ready to happen.

Over the course of the last few weeks, it was impossible not to notice that he was nearing the end of Ben's journal. As much as he wanted to read more of the artist's words, he feared finishing the leather bound book he had come to both cherish and love. To him, it felt as though it was his only connection to the former first mate, and now that he was almost done, he didn't know how he'd be able to feel that close to him again.

Still, he'd come this far, and while the thirteen-year-old didn't know if spirits existed or not, he couldn't help but think that Ben had wanted him to read his journal, straight from the beginning. To close it now out of fear would somehow seem selfish, so with a long, intake of breath, Jonathan opened the book to where he last left off.

_May 24__th__, 1723_

_ I swear, if ever this journal was to be found, nobody would believe it was real. The stories that make up my life seem to be getting far more unbelievable, but believe me when I say that the words I write here cannot be closer to the truth._

Jonathan smiled. _Don't worry, Ben. I believe you._

_Today, our newest crewmember, Douglas, noticed a shipwreck not too far off from where we sailed. The Captain decided to sail by the flotsam in a half hearted attempt to see if there was anything we could pillage, but we found something else entirely. No, not some_thing_, but some_one._ We found a small boy!_

The brunet's heart beat wildly as he suddenly realized what it was he was reading. Ever since realizing it was Ben's journal, a part of him had always known he would eventually find an entry like the one he was reading now, but to have read it from the days where Ben was a lone painter, to suddenly be reading about the day he and his father first found him at sea… It was mind blowing. So much so that it almost made him dizzy.

Heart still racing wildly, Jonathan continued on with the entry.

_The poor kid was a wreck when we first pulled him on board. I haven't seen the Captain look that panicked in a long time. Actually, I don't think anybody on board, besides myself, has _ever _seen the Captain look that horrified. It was as though his own life counted on this boy's survival, and quite frankly, I can't blame him for feeling that way. It's been such a long time since he's had the opportunity to save another's life, and not only that, but the life of a young boy? It's stirring up old memories in him already, I can tell, but this kid…it's almost as if he's his chance at redemption; a way to make up for all the mistakes he's made in the past._

_ I'll tell you something though; after he woke up the first time, after Percival calmed him down long enough to sleep again, there was a feeling of hope amongst this ship; a feeling of purpose. For months now, we've just been sort of drifting. It's like we're all a bunch of uninspired artists, unable to find any real motivation to do anything more than survive. But with this lad on board, there's a sudden sense of meaning. No one has addressed it; no one's said it out loud, but its there, and not just in the Captain. _

_ Anyway, just in case you're wondering, the kid's name is Jonathan. I found out after Per-Per told us after he first woke up, but after that, I actually got to meet him. Percival needed to go get some food from the galley, since he'd been watching over the lad while we were eating, so he asked me to keep an eye on him. And, whaddya' know, young Jonathan woke up! He's a cute kid; polite, appreciative… I know this sounds kind of, well, morbid, at least coming from me, but I'm almost glad he was hit by that storm. From what little Percival shared with me about the scars he patched up on his body, it doesn't sound like his home life was one to go bragging about, and after finding out he was Robert's cabin boy, of all people? If that man can scar someone as strong as Percival, then I seriously have no idea how a kid that age survived that kind of torture. I know it sounds dark, but like I said earlier, I'm thinking that storm could quite possibly be the best thing that's ever happened to him._

Jonathan swallowed. Hard. Hearing Ben talk about him in such a way… _Redemption, purpose. Polite, appreciative… _The brunet tried not to choke up as he let his words sink in. He had always, _always _admired Ben, and to hear that the first mate had liked him from the start… He knew it should have been obvious; that the artist had never given him reason to think otherwise, but seeing it written out in Ben's journal…

Blinking the tears away, Jonathan continued on with his reading. Entry after entry, John found himself more and more choked up. Not only did the first mate continually write about how much his affection for Jonathan was growing, but he _also _wrote about how much he enjoyed the growing relationship between John and Captain Percival as well. He talked about how excited he was to bring him to port, and how even the Captain was showing traces of excitement. He talked about how impressed Percival seemed to be at how quick John was picking up on his sparring lessons, and how excited Ben was that their style seemed like such a great fit. He talked about showing John his paintings and sharing with him his past. He also talked about sharing his fantasy with him; about how he'd just love to let himself fall into the water, back against the sunset… He talked of their time at port together; about how good it was to see Carla and Elliot again. He talked of the growing relationship between him and Percival, and how John was no longer a chance at redemption, but a son that he would die for. He talked of dancing the night away during their last night at port, and how it'd been difficult to say goodbye. And then…and then…

_August__28__th__, 1723_

_ We left port today, which I'll admit to being pretty difficult. I've always loved that place and the people that dwell there, especially Carla and Elliot. Honestly though, I was more excited to hear how Jonathan's time went. I mean, I was there for most of it, but I'd been looking forward to taking him there for months now, you know? When I saw him watching the town shrink away, I walked over to keep him company, but I didn't expect the conversation that followed in the slightest. _

_ Jonathan, of all people, told me that, well…that I glowed; that when I walk into a room, everything's alright again. I don't think I'd ever been spoken to like that before, and coming from John, well…it was kind of touching. What that kid doesn't realize is that's exactly how _I_ would describe him. It's like the boy embodies light, yet he doesn't even know it. He really has no idea what he's done for this ship; what he's done for Percival, and yes, what he's even done for me._

_ Ever since being damned to piracy, I never really thought I'd feel this way again. I never thought I'd feel like a part of a genuine, loving family. Now don't get me wrong; I've _always _considered Percival a part of my family. He's been like a brother to me for years now, and I honestly couldn't ask to be the first mate of anybody better than him. This, though…this is different. With Jonathan here, it's like…it's almost like we've been waiting for him, before we even knew who he was. Now, just like that, he's with us; with us as though he's been here from the start. Finally, everything's whole. _We're _whole. Captain Percival, myself, the ship. Everything just seems right; everything feels at peace. _

_Feeling this way, having this family again, I feel like I could honestly die happy._

_So I guess it comes as no surprise that, when Jonathan started crying and thanking me for everything I'd done, I almost didn't know what to say. Now, looking back on it, I wish I'd thought fast enough to tell him everything I'm able to write down here. (Isn't that the way?) That kid has impacted us all in a way I never thought possible. He's made us into a family again, and for that, well…for that, I guess I owe _him_ thanks, don't I?_

_Well, I'm sure I'll get my chance one of these days. I'll think of a place we can sail to, but somewhere where we – Percival, Jonathan and I – can also venture off in, a bit, just the three of us. I don't know where yet, exactly, but I'll think of one, and when I do, it's going to be fantastic. _

Jonathan wiped his hand over the page, tears having fallen onto the parchment and blurring over the words. Shaking, the brunet turned the page to find exactly what he had expected.

Blank pages, void of that familiar script...

It was done. Nothing was left. That was the end of Ben's journal.

Sobbing, Jonathan closed the journal with trembling hands, bringing it to his chest with a heartbroken pang. Looking back, the small amount of thanks he'd given Ben that day wasn't _nearly _enough; wasn't _nearly _the amount he deserved. He wished, much like Benjamin, that he had gotten to thank him more too; that he had gotten to tell him how both he and Percival were more like his family than his _real _family had ever been. He wished so badly to tell him; to tell him how much he was missed, but even amidst his anguish and grief over the loss that was the first mate, Jonathan knew that, somehow, Ben was well aware.

"Jonathan…?"

Jumping, the brunet wiped his eyes hurriedly at the sound of the Captain's voice, not wanting to draw attention to his tears. Of course, as always, Percival was unquestionably observant.

"For God's sake, kid, you're a bawling mess! What happened? Are you - ? Oh…"

Still sniffling, Jonathan watched as the older man's eyes connected with the now closed journal. A silence encased them, small and sad, before the Captain voiced his next question. "You finished it, didn't you?" he asked quietly. "You finished Benjamin's journal."

Nodding, John continued to use the end of his sleeve in a desperate attempt to wipe both tears and snot away. He didn't fight as the hammock beneath him dipped, Percival's presence beside him more than welcomed, though he was _beyond_ surprised when his father held out his own sleeve. Shocked, the young teen merely stared up at him.

"I don't have a handkerchief on me, so I suggest you blow."

"It's your sleeve though, Captain! I –"

"C'mon, kiddo, blow."

Face still a mess with tears and everything that came with it, Jonathan leaned over and blew into the Captain's sleeve, using the rest of the material to dry his remaining tears.

"Lovely," the older man commented after the brunet was finished.

"Sorry," John mumbled.

"Kidding, Newbie…"

It was a long moment before anything else was said, but when a sniff or two was all that remained from the brunet, it was Percival who chose to break the silence. "He loved you like crazy, kid. You know that, right?"

Jonathan nodded immediately. It was sad, especially now, but when Ben was still alive, he wouldn't have been sure enough to make the claim that Ben loved him. He knew that he cared about him a lot, and John definitely knew that _he _loved _Ben, _but never had he realized, _truly realized,_ just how much Ben had cared for him as well.

"If he was still with us, he'd be sitting on the other side of your hammock there, probably pouting with jealousy that he didn't get to offer his sleeve first."

Smiling, John let out a small chuckle at the image, allowing Percival to smile a bit too. "He loved you, kid," the older man continued, "And there's no one who can take that away from you."

Jonathan practically melted when the Captain threw his arm around his shoulder, pulling him in to his side. The embrace was everything he needed at that moment, and while he never said it out loud, he had a feeling it was everything Captain Percival needed then too.

Feeling exhausted from both last night and his crying, Jonathan felt himself begin to drift off. It wasn't until Percival removed himself from the hammock did he suddenly jerk awake.

"That woke you?" the older man asked, startled. "Once you're asleep, you're usually impossible to wake up."

Jonathan shook his head. "I wasn't entirely asleep yet," he confessed, "But to be honest, I don't think I want to sleep right now." Realizing that the Captain had never actually said why he'd come down, the brunet decided to ask.

"Well, I didn't see you out on the main deck, so I had to wonder where you went, since everybody else was passed out drunk..."

Blushing, Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I, um…woke up a bit earlier, I guess…"

"Ah, well…another time, then."

Confused, Jonathan stood up from his hammock. "Another time for what?"

Sighing, Percival turned around, face oddly patient as he looked at the tear stained pirate. "Kid, I understand that right now isn't the best time for you, really. Go back to bed there, alright?"

Jonathan shook his head, suddenly feeling as though he just slept for hours on end. "I promise, Captain, I'm okay… Was there something you needed me for?"

When the older man's response was a small, almost inaudible chuckle, Jonathan's curiosity only rose. "You know, in your own way, you can be just as stubborn as me. If you're careful, that can play into your hands, but there are also several ways in which that can play against you. Remember that for me, will you there, Jonathan?"

Confused, the brunet nodded seriously. He may have been at a loss as to where the speech was coming from, but it didn't mean he didn't take the Captain's words to heart.

"Anyway," the older man pressed on, "I was actually coming to wake you up early; when I still thought you were out on the main deck."

Jonathan cocked his head, curious. This was the second day in a row where Percival needed him enough to actually wake him up before the others. Flattered and slightly mystified, the brunet asked why he'd needed him.

"You and I have some unfinished business with a certain Governor; one who needs to know that we won't be returning home any time soon."

It didn't take long at all for Jonathan to recall the older man's response to Christopher from yesterday. Hadn't he wondered how the Captain planned on addressing the Governor, and hadn't he _definitely _wondered why the Captain needed _his_ help, of all people? "Aye, Captain, we do. How are we going to go about handling that though?"

Curious, Jonathan watched as Captain Percival removed a roll of parchment from his jacket, smiling deviously all the while. "What say you and I get to writing before the rest of the crew wakes up? After all, it's our responsibility."

**-MV-**

Back at the pirates' favorite port, Jonathan clung to both Carla and Elliot in one of the hardest goodbyes he had ever been forced into giving them. "I feel spoiled," he confessed in their hug sandwich. "After having you two on board with us for so long, saying goodbye now feels harder than I can remember."

Elliot stepped aside then, allowing Carla to embrace John completely, "It's only for a while though, sweetie, and then once your crew gets settled into your home town, we'll be able to reunite as a family."

"God, I really can't wait." The comment was made by Turk, who was now approaching Carla, arms outstretched to embrace her.

Giving them their moment alone, Jonathan turned to Elliot, smiling. "I'm going to miss you, Elliot."

"I'm going to miss you too, Jonathan, but like Carla said, it's only temporary."

Not quite knowing what to say, the brunet shifted awkwardly as he waited for Christopher and Carla to stop kissing. It really was like something out of a romance novel, those two, so much so that – oh yeah! "Hey, Elliot! I've been meaning to ask you: Did you ever get a chance to sell your books? I know that was one of the main reasons you came out here with us, but we didn't get to stop at any ports along the way, either. I mean…are you and your family going to be okay, money wise?"

Smiling, Elliot held up a large bag of shillings, making young Dorian's eyes widen at the sight. "Would you believe me if I said that Todd bought all of them from me? I guess he felt bad about hitting on me all of those times, especially after I told him I was married, so after he heard why I was selling them – though I don't know how he found out, to be honest – he ended up buying every single one. Can you believe that?"

In all honestly, Jonathan really couldn't. The idea of Todd feeling that bad over something he did on a daily basis seemed a little odd, and while their crew wasn't exactly poor, he couldn't recall any one individual _ever _having that much money, not unless they really, really saved their earnings. Still, Todd spent almost all of his lot every single time they made port, so how on Earth was he able to afford Elliot's books? (Not to mention the idea of Todd even reading them was somewhat baffling…) "That's, I mean…that's great, Elliot!" Even if it was fairly puzzling, Jonathan knew that what he said next, he meant without a shadow of a doubt. "I'm really happy for you and Sean; for baby Abigail, too. She's very lucky to have you as her mother."

Jonathan watched, his smile warm and loving, as Elliot teared up upon his words. Shoving the money back into her coat, the blonde reached down to embrace him, pulling him into a tight, appreciative hug. "I'm really going to miss you, Jonathan. Don't be afraid to stop by any time you like, okay? I'm sure Abigail wouldn't mind you cradling her again."

Jonathan nodded as the two of them pulled away, the image of little Abigail making him smile. "Thank you, Elliot, and don't worry; I'll stop by whenever the chance to arises."

After one more hug, Jonathan watched her walk away, waiting patiently for Carla so that he could snag one more hug from her too. It wasn't until they were embracing did he notice Todd behind her, buying something or other at a nearby stand. How in the world…? "Hey, Carla?" he asked cautiously. "Um…did Elliot tell you about Todd buying all of her books?"

Grinning in a way that meant she knew something, the Latina woman nodded. "Oh, yes, she told me…" Quietly, Jonathan followed the waitress' gaze to wear Captain Percival was standing, his expression far off as he stared at the open sea.

Jonathan gasped. "Seriously?"

"You better believe it."

"But Elliot said that Todd –"

"Oh, she wasn't lying, sweetheart, don't worry. Your father's just too stubborn to do anything that would be openly kind, at least towards her, anyway, so after finding out what Todd did to make her angry, he just set it up from there."

Jonathan turned back to his father, whose attention was still captured by the sea. Three years. He had known the man for three years, and even now, he was still surprising him with just how wonderful of a person he truly was.

**-MV-**

Hours after dropping off the ladies and giving the letter to one of their town's post boys, Captain Percival found himself back out at sea; the crew of _the Lost Siren_ following his own, precious vessel. _The Sacred Heart_ was in great shape for the expedition they were getting ready to take, and with a destination set for said vessel (Hutnik's town, first) he was more than ready to get their traveling hospital under way.

Still, something was missing, and after thinking about it for months, Captain Percival knew what that was.

Handing over the helm to Phillip, the auburn haired pirate made his way towards the quarter deck, where Jonathan stared out at the sea, deep in thought, as his hand clutched to the hilt of his sword. "Everything alright there, kid?"

Having been concentrating on whatever he was thinking about, the brunet jumped just a little before turning to face him. "Aye, Captain," he said with a small smile. "I was just…thinking."

The older man raised a curious eyebrow. When Jonathan delved into those quiet contemplations of his, the end result was either extremely encouraging or extremely depressing. "Ah…" he finally answered, not wanting to step on any toes. "Mind if I ask what about?"

Smile still present (but undeniably sad) Percival was surprised when the brunet unsheathed his sword, placing it horizontally onto his palms. "A while ago, you gave me the honor of naming the style that both you and Benjamin came up with; the style you said was made for me. I…I haven't really given it much thought, until recently, but after finishing Ben's journal, it's all I've been able to think about."

The older man nodded, urging him to continue.

"I was scared to finish it – the journal, I mean – because, well…because I felt like it was the last connection I had to him, but that's not true. That'll _never _be true. Even without this style being presented to me, I know that now." The brunet paused, his fingers curling around the sword before continuing. "Yet, the reason that naming this means so much to me is that it makes me feel closer to you and Ben; like I can somehow help carry on his legacy by doing so."

"Understandable," the Captain responded, expression oddly calm. When John remained quiet, however, the auburn haired pirate gave the teen a verbal nudge, his curiosity over John's choice heightening. "And so…?" he finally asked.

Captain Percival watched on, clearly surprised, as John raised his sword high into the air; angling it so that the sun engulfed his weapon. "The Embodiment of Light," Jonathan announced seriously, blue eyes set on the sword that shined above him. "It's how I used to describe Benjamin, and it's how I felt when the three of us were together; like my whole body was filled with this overwhelming warmth."

The older man watched him, gaze set on his son, as he remembered thinking that both John and Ben had shared that similar characteristic; that certain, special glow that seemed to be lacking in so many people. Truly, it was the perfect name for a style created by Ben; the perfect name for a style now passed on to Jonathan.

"And you," Jonathan added suddenly, sword now drawn to his side as he stared up at his father. "I thought that warmth was gone forever when Ben died; I thought I'd never get it back. But you set it on fire in a way that makes it impossible to be blown out. That day you picked me up between those graves and brought me back here, to be with you and the crew… You were right. _Ben _was right. I think that storm was the best thing that's ever happened to me, by far. Without it, I wouldn't have anything; a light, a family, a beating heart… I had to almost die to get the life I've always wanted, but I'd do it again, if I had to. I just..."

Percival watched, eyes uncharacteristically soft, as Jonathan began to sniffle. "I'm sorry," he managed after a moment. "I don't know what got into me, I just –"

Allowing himself a moment to not act so damn callous (well, at least in front of the crew) the older man reached over to ruffle the young boy's hair. When the brunet leaned into his touch, Percival couldn't help but smile, realizing at once that his son had missed it too.

Still sniffling just a little, the older man knew more than ever that now was the right time to talk to Jonathan about what he had been contemplating. "Whaddya' say you sheathe that sword of yours and follow me over to the helm for a second, okay?"

Without asking questions, Jonathan followed his father towards the helm, sheathing his sword as he went. When Phillip realized the two of them were approaching, he moved out of their way with a smile, winking at Jonathan before heading in the opposite direction. "Captain?" the brunet asked curiously. "What was all that about?"

"You tell me," Percival replied with a grin, nodding over to the now empty helm. Trying not to laugh at the teen's expression, the older man bit the inside of his mouth as he watched his son's eyes expand.

"Are you, I mean…are you sure I can do this? I'm not complaining, it's just that, well, I've only steered once before…"

"Aye," the Captain responded, voice suddenly serious as his stance became taller, "But as my first mate, you'll have to learn how to steer this vessel through sunshine and storm."

The two pirates stared at one another for a long, unwavering moment. One of them anxiously waiting for a response, the other still processing what it was he just heard.

Blue eyes wider than he'd ever seen them before, Percival watched his son gawk, unbelieving, as he stared up at his father. It was as though he was waiting for him to say, "Just kidding!" so when the minutes ticked by and the silence stretched on, Jonathan couldn't help but finally break down.

"I-I mean…you're serious, aren't you…?"

Nodding, the older man confirmed his son's question. "Jonathan… I've been thinking about this for a while now. You were my apprentice back at Sacred Heart, so now that we're taking said hospital and bringing it out here, it makes little to no sense to have you not train under me anymore, simply in that we've relocated. Not to mention _the Lost Siren_ following us now too. We have the makings of a fleet here, kiddo, and I'm going to need someone else who knows how to run these ships too."

Still realizing what had been told to him, John continued to stutter. "T-That makes sense. It just, I mean…_me?_"

Rolling his eyes, Percival swallowed a grin as he continued. "C'mon, kid, haven't you noticed me giving you more responsibilities these last few days? Asking for your opinion, even?"

By the realization that burst to light in Jonathan's reflective eyes, the older man knew that he had, in fact, noticed. Still, why he _really _wanted his son as his first mate remained to be said. Swallowing, the older man lowered his voice, wanting their conversation to be for them and them alone. "Jonathan… The truth of the matter is this: I've only ever trusted one person enough for this job, and I thought that would be the case forever. I'm not asking you to be my first mate simply because Ben is no longer with us; I'm asking because of how much I genuinely, genuinely trust you. You're my son, Jonathan; _my son._ I couldn't think of better hands to steer this vessel with me; I couldn't think of anyone other than you."

Forgoing the Captain's rule about being more "Captain-y" in front of the crew, Jonathan threw himself at this father with an all out, in your face hug. He clung to the older man like the greatest treasure on earth, and to Jonathan, he really, really was. "Thank you, father. Thank you so, so much. I…I just…"

Swallowing, Captain Percival withdrew the rule himself, pulling his son tighter into the embrace and not caring if anybody looked on. "I love you, kid. I love you more than I think even _you _could imagine."

Beaming, the brunet nestled further into his father's hold, the light inside him glowing at an all time high. "I love you too, Captain. I really, really do."

**-MV-**

Caressed by fine silks and cotton, Governor Corman shifted awake, frazzled, as one of his many servants knocked tenderly at his door. "Wait a moment, wait a moment!" he barked angrily. Annoyed at being woken up before noon, the stout man dressed himself slowly, not forgetting to put on his finest satin jacket once he was done. After all, presentation was _vital _to being a good Governor. Nothing said "high class" like his satin, gold trimmed jacket; each silver button only a sliver of all that he owned.

Still, as lovely as his precious things were, even _those _couldn't help cheer him up lately. It'd been months since he heard from Captain – _Doctor _Percival. Had they succeeded in getting _the Ghost Ship_? Had they helped those little towns? He would have sent his Navy again, but they kept on coming back empty handed. Besides, it was better to risk someone like Percival – a former sea rat – than the fine, fine soldiers that made up his Navy.

Still, he had the right to know how they were doing. _He _was the one who sent them. _He _was the reason they were out there. Technically, _he _was Percival's commander, and therefore, should have received word by now! Not that he ever got around to telling Percival he was his commander. It wasn't that he was _afraid_ of the physician, of course. He just assumed he'd figure it out…

"Governor Corman? Are you alright in there?"

"Yes, yes, yes," the stout man said dismissively. "Feel free to come on in, just so long as you have my breakfast!"

Wearily, a young man opened the door; one hand carrying a silver tray of food and the other hand carrying a letter. "For you, Governor Corman; both of them."

Reaching for a thick, strip of bacon, the Governor dismissed the man with an overly animated wave, not bothering to make eye contact as he did so.

Having decided on eating breakfast before reading the letter, Corman was surprised when the seal caught his attention. It wasn't like any other seal he'd seen before. In fact, upon closer inspection, it almost looked hand crafted; as if the person had decided to create a seal of their own.

Interesting.

Curious, the Governor abandoned his meal, opening up the parchment to see who the letter was from.

_Governor Corman,_

_ It is my pleasure to inform you that the fabled "Ghost Ship" has been found, captured, and caught. It is an even _finer _pleasure to inform you that I will not be bringing them in for a trial. As it turns out, they were not the _only _ones responsible for the deaths of those people. "Deaths, you say?" Oh yes, Governor, deaths._

_Multiple, multiple deaths._

_I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you, since it was their cries for help that made you realize they were dying. Too bad you didn't realize that, let's say, the _first _time you read their letters; months and months before letting me know._

_But I'll be sure to touch more on that later. _

_See, what I found horribly interesting – _besides_ that, anyway – was that when we showed up at the towns on your list, all of its villagers were not _dying_, but dead; _rotting _dead. As in, "Dead for a really long time."_

_Upon further inspection of the story you fed me before leaving, it occurred to me that your shiny, little Navy had not told you the truth. A shame, to be sure, that such courageous, respectable men would crawl back on all fours after coming across one town. Not that I could blame them for being horrified, of course. The sights of corpses upon corpses – men, women, and children – are bound to leave anybody scarred for life. Truthfully, Governor, I rather wished you were there…_

_Ah, but don't feel bad, old friend. It's not your fault the Navy tricked you. However, you might want to take into account that it took you several months before actually _listening _to the letters those people sent you. You know the ones; the letters of help that worried you enough to come see me; the letters of help that worried you enough to dismiss them for months before taking any sort of action. You do remember, don't you?_

_Yes, Governor, I'm sure you do…_

_That being said, I plan on taking these pirates – this crew who killed without meaning to – to the towns that have suffered by their hands. It is there and more some that they will be training with my apprentice and I; where they will be given a chance at redemption._

_ If the noose still hangs heavily on your conscious, I'm sure we can work something out. We'll just inform the king of _all _parties involved in those killings, so that _all _parties will bear the weight of what happened to those people._

_ Only if you still want to, of course…_

_ I will give you time to "think things through," dear Governor, but do know that both I and my crews _will_ be returning home eventually. Until then, it is your responsibility to inform my place of work that I will not be back for several months; that it is up to them to take care of our patients, and up to _them_ to take care of them well._

_ While I know the very thought of doing anything for me right now has probably set you ablaze, I would suggest that telling them becomes your highest priority._

_ After all, you wouldn't want a lack of competence to play a hand in _more _people's deaths, would you?_

_ Take care, Governor Corman, and until we meet again, I ask that you remember just one thing:_

_ My son's name is Jonathan, _not _Johnny._

_ -Captain Percival Ulysses Cox- _

_**A/N: **__Thank you, all of you, for your patience and support through this entire story. Your feedback has encouraged me in more ways than one, so thank you, sincerely, and I hope the ride was worth it._

_Until next time!_


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